


Psithurism

by Celestios



Category: Monsta X (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Abuse, Age Play Little Im Changkyun, Anxiety, Caregiver Lee Hoseok, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Forced Infantilism, Gaslighting, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Multi, NO rape, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Infantilism, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, RPF, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome, Trauma Bonding, at all, do not romanticize this, forced age play, more tags to come, non sexual infantilism, non-consensual age play, please let me know if I should tag anything else at all no matter how small, tantrums, time outs, will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28893570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestios/pseuds/Celestios
Summary: “It’s alright, Changkyunnie. It’s okay. I’m your new caretaker, Hoseokkie-Hyung, it’s nice to meet you. I promise you you’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you here.”ORChangkyun is struggling too much in life and thinks about a way out, thinks about the littles program, only wants information on it so he can think about it, just think about it. Just think.They take him anyway.
Relationships: Im Changkyun | I.M/Lee Hoseok | Wonho
Comments: 161
Kudos: 186





	1. Spring

**Author's Note:**

> tw and cw for kidnapping, non con sedation, anxiety, blood mention, biting, violence, forced infantilism, gaslighting and manipulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changkyun gets caught

The beginning of spring is always wet. Wet, wet, wet and melting. Spring is the weirdest season for Changkyun, with the remnants of sadness and coming joy. The snow melts but it’s still cold, the sun is out but it’s still cold, and the trees start to stand tall in their bitterness, oak hollow and proud and much too cold to hide behind or lean against, and the leaves come back bit by bit, blooming. Blossoming. Changkyun wishes he could blossom. He wishes he could transform himself, and not be him. Not be stuck in  _ this  _ situation. But of course, lies were lies and contracts were lies and he can’t do anything about it now. 

But it’s not cold in the back of the car where he sits, fiddling with the lock and banging his heel against the grates of the partition. He knows it won’t do much other than piss off the social workers, who seem to have the patience of actual angels fallen from the heavens above. It had taken them a full forty minutes just to get him into the back seat and he’d broken their skin in a swift, powerful bite. The taste of pennies resided in his mouth and he’d been shoved in head first, which wasn’t the most gracious process. They’d strapped him into the ugly looking car seat, the tall woman holding his hands while the other worked quickly in succession. Once he’d been strapped in, he hadn’t been able to unclip any of the straps. The movement was tight and uncomfortable but he could breathe fine. He could still kick and scream and swear and could barely reach the door locks--but they were still little proof and the door wasn’t opening. Which, in reality, he didn’t seem to mind all that much. Even if he could get the door open, what could he do? He was strapped into the back of a government owned vehicle. No one was going to stop for him. 

“I know it’s a long ride but I promise you we’ll be there soon,” the shorter woman with the blonde bun spoke, her voice more giggly and pleasant than the other woman. Changkyun fumes internally but says nothing. He goes to kick the partition separating him from the two of them and they both seem to exhale.

“Stop kicking, you’re going to hurt your feet,” the taller woman says.

“Then let me  _ out _ .”

He should have said  _ let me go _ , but he knows the statement speaks for itself. He wants out. He wants to be let go. He wants to leave and pretend that he hadn’t signed that contract in the back of his miserable, confused mind and that they can’t take him. Which, in reality, it’s not hard to pretend. Changkyun is  _ not _ a little. He doesn’t have any toys, he doesn’t talk like other littles, he doesn’t need any help or comfort in his life because he’s gotten so used to being independent and doing things for himself. He doesn’t even  _ like _ baby stuff as some sort of aesthetic. He had been hungry and cold and tired, so so tired, of struggling to exist in this world. So of course he’d signed up for more information about this program. But he’s stupid. So, so stupid, and they can’t hold stupidity against him in the court of law, can they?

Only they are. 

But really, their possession of him is stupid, but it had been his own stupidity that had gotten him caught.

Never trust anyone, he knows this. 

But he had and he’d been shown right after what happens. Vulnerability is such a horrid and stupid thing, he hates it. There is no reason for him to be kind, to be polite, to make way when a fellow citizen is carrying their groceries or give up his spot on the bus (unless it’s a pregnant lady because he’s not an  _ asshole _ ). There is no reason for him to trust others, to believe that they have what is best for him in their minds. There is no reason that he should sit still and look pretty for them, no reason he should have to run in circles exhausting himself just to exist. No reason. No reason at all. And now, despite that, he might have to. 

He just doesn’t know yet.

“Just a few more minutes! And then we’ll get you inside and you’ll meet your caretaker, the one who will take care of you until you’re adopted into your new forever family!” Miss Blonde Bun seems so happy for him and he could almost roll his eyes if he weren’t internally panicking.

“I’m  _ not _ a  _ little _ . I told you, I wasn’t in my right mind. And isn’t this taking space away from  _ actual _ littles who”--

“We’re allowed to help everyone, and we’re allowed to help  _ you _ .”

The statement sits with him for a moment before settling into his stomach. “I’m not a  _ fucking little _ !”

“We don’t like words like that,” Tall Lady says, eyes flickering up to the rearview mirror. 

“Fuck. You.”

“I think,” the woman starts as she turns the wheel on a curve, “that someone is  _ very _ tired and cranky and has changed their mind because they believe they’re not worth the fight or they still have that internalized stigma. We see it all the time, Changkyunnie. You’re going to be just fine.”

“Internalize-- _ no! _ I’m not a little! I mean it!”

Miss Blonde Bun turns around and smiles at him in such a demeaning, cooing manner, that he wants to stick his fingers through the grate and poke her right in the eyes. It’s as if she thinks he’s an actual baby or something because she looks so tender and caring and he glares daggers at her. And he  _ knows _ his looks intimidate. But they have no effect on the two ladies, so it seems. He can’t even  _ reach _ the grates, so in the car seat he stays, kicking and yelling to aggravate them so maybe, just  _ maybe _ , they will see that he  _ isn’t _ worth the effort of taking. For fuck’s sake, he doesn’t even want to be there. Won’t that risk hurting any actual littles? Wouldn’t he be taking a spot? He had no idea.

He’d just been . . . so tired. So hopeless. So lost.

Can’t they just let him  _ go _ ?

He’s pleaded with them for the last hour, cursed them, yelled and screamed, begged, bargained. But nothing. It’s like they don’t even care what comes out of his mouth, he’s just a stupid little baby in their minds. Which, if that’s how they actually  _ see _ littles, is so dehumanizing to him. They haven’t been condescending just  _ too _ nice and  _ too _ sweet and it’s all  _ so  _ forced, in their little sing song voices and baby talk. But they don’t care. 

They’re taking him away from his life, his own, self made life. And sure, his life isn’t perfect. He works two full time jobs to pay for his apartment, but he doesn’t miss rent. His electric bill isn’t high because he’s almost never home. But after he’d lost his second job, it was just too much. Food didn’t cost that much but he had no one to help him out, no one to rely on, his roommates just couldn’t afford to keep covering his rent. He’d been doing this for so long, and one night of hopelessness and despair was now being held against him because . . . all because he signed up? 

He hadn’t consented to any of this. 

It wasn’t his fault that he had been born in this awful city that seemed to care more about landlords than people and it wasn’t his fault that his old job had laid him off because they weren’t getting enough business and it wasn’t his fault that a cold meant missed paychecks and doctor’s appointments. It wasn't his fault that he didn’t have insurance or a car or a family member to lean on or even a friend to hassle the place they worked at to maybe get a job. It wasn’t his fault.

But this was, maybe.

And he’s never made a mistake quite like this one. 

The building is not as big and scary as he’d pictured it would be as they roll up and by the time they get to the entrance, he’s rocking back and forth to try and loosen the straps enough to pull them off. Miss Blonde Bun watches him for a moment before whispering something to her partner and Changkyun is so focused on being obnoxiously loud, as if they’d still grow weary of him and let him go, that he misses it.

“Alright, little one, we’re here. We know how scary this transition is going to be for you but it’s okay. We’re right here and we’ll be here until your new caretaker comes to pick you up.”

“Please don’t do this”--

“Did you take the radio?” Tall Lady asks and Blonde Bun shakes her head no. She hands over the radio and Tall Lady starts to announce their arrival. Changkyun kicks at the seats.

“I have a  _ life _ ! You can’t do this!” 

He thinks about lying, maybe, saying he has a kid or a girlfriend pregnant somewhere, or fuck, a dying relative. But they know him. They’d known he was lying about having a pet, so they probably knew that he would lie about  _ family _ . They know he has no one, and that’s probably why he was taken. Because he’s a  _ perfect candidate _ . Not even just for this, for their company, for his life, not even just a perfectly signed up and consented candidate (even though he hasn’t! Signed! A thing!) But he was the perfect target for a  _ kidnapping _ , too. He hopped from place to place, didn’t own much, didn’t have family or pets, very little friends. No social media told much about his life which he knew was the safest thing, but he was private and hell, maybe he was even secretive on a bad day. He was kept busy and he had no car, nothing registered. He only had one debit card.

God, he’d fucked himself over. Had he? He’d thought he was just a  _ normal, _ average, everyday person. 

“Should we put up the silent screen? He might be overwhelmed.” Blonde Bun asks quietly and Tall Lady just nods. 

“Okay, sweetie, just a moment.”

Changkyun frowns, wondering what the hell the silent screen is, until something behind the grate is going to roll up. It’s a black screen, and it looks thinner than the metal of the grate, but as it rolls up, he can see that it looks almost like a normal partition. He can still see their outline and he can hear them, but it’s muffled. Tall Lady is whispering something into the radio and he hears the static of a reply. He doesn’t listen for long though, and tries to get back to loosening the straps and pulling at the clips. He doesn’t know how it won’t unclip for him but he’s starting to lose his patience. He pulls at it and yells in frustration. Why won’t the damned thing come  _ apart _ ? 

The car turns off and Changkyun can feel his heart beating hard in his chest, thumping uncomfortably against his sternum. He thinks. He’s not even sure where the heart is located  _ exactly _ but he knows he can feel it pulsating and it  _ hurts _ . His stomach is starting to turn now and he can feel the shock of the situation starting to settle into his bones, making them creak with anxiety and pop with dread. The moment has come finally where he must . . . face the consequences of his actions? No, that can’t even be right that’s not right, it’s  _ absolutely _ wrong.

Both of the ladies get out of the car now to greet someone, talking casually as they say hello. He can’t really hear what they’re saying now, the blood rushing through his ears and up to his brain to fuel his nightmarish worried daydreams, but he can hear the voice of a man. It’s gentle and steady. He focuses on it while he goes to pull at the strap adjacent to his arm. There’s two crossing his chest in an X formation and then two under the arms to keep him in place, along with the two looped around his thighs. It’s like a complex baby straight jacket, he thinks, and how horribly fitting it is. 

He hears a  _ click _ and gasps through his nose, his mouth clamped shut as to not make any noise. The strap to his thigh comes apart, and he can pull it now. The strap cross over his shoulder down towards his hip is loose now and if he pulls it out, he can undo them both.

But luck is never on his side ever, and he only tugs at it as the backdoor opens. 

“Oh no. What are we doing?”

Changkyun doesn’t even look up from his undoing of the car seat, trying to rip the straps apart. He tries to throw himself onto his side and screams when the stranger grabs his hands, his long bangs falling in his eyes. His hair is frizzy from working up a sweat in the back of the well heated car and the air is cool against his sweaty skin. His bangs stick to his face a bit but he manages to blow them out of the way when he spits onto the stranger.

“That’s not very nice, Changkyun.”

He ignores the stern use of his name, still trying to scoot away from the stranger. But they’re  _ strong _ , and when he looks up, he feels his blood start to run cold. The stranger  _ looks _ strong.  _ Very _ strong. He’s huge. Changkyun himself is not that small. He’s five eight maybe? Five nine with his boots on, standing up tall as if he owns the place. He’s lean, having lost weight over the last year due to paying bills with his grocery money, and losing his baby fat from the previous years. Changkyun is strong too, he thinks. He doesn’t hit the gym often but he works manual labor. But he’s nowhere near this man’s weight or size and definitely not those muscles and he starts to wonder if the man is some sort of security or officer here.

He tugs Changkyun up and he can't do much about it, but he’s not rough or domineering. He holds his hands as Blonde Bun starts to readjust the straps he’d managed to break free of.

“We don’t play with these, they’re not toys.”

It’s like they  _ think _ he’s in littlespace as they speak, even though he’s very clearly not. Unless he’s wrong about a lot of things, which he could be. He didn’t know much about anything, about how these things worked here. About  _ them _ . And he’s too out of breath to say anything, too focused on the man who has his hands intertwined with his own, gripping them so that Changkyun can’t get away. 

“I think now is”--

“Yeah, I’ve got it.”

Tall Lady is fast, and doesn’t even wait for the alcohol from the wet wipe to properly dry before she injects him, at least having the decency to draw the plunger back a bit before pressing down. It stings and Changkyun lashes out but it’s not a bad pain. He’s had shots before, he’ll live. But he  _ freaks _ at the injection because what the  _ fuck _ are they injecting him for!? He squirms about as best he can but Tall Lady grips his arm, pressing down on it so he doesn’t lift up and hurt himself with the needle. It moves around in his skin as he fights them but she pulls right out in a second or two.

“What the  _ fuck-  _ what the  _ fuck _ !” Changkyun kicks at the man since he can’t get to Tall Lady but he just takes a small step back and moves Changkyun’s hands back and forth, in a childish way, but clearly trying to still keep him restrained. 

“It’s okay, it’s just a little something to help you relax. We’d never give you anything that could hurt you.”

Whatever it is isn’t fast acting, and Changkyun finally breaks his grip free from the man’s hands, and he lets him. He takes a step back and nods, holding a hand out to wave the two ladies to the side a bit. The car door is left open all the way even if he now has space. 

“It’s alright, Changkyunnie. It’s okay. I’m your new caretaker, Hoseokkie-Hyung, it’s nice to meet you. I promise you you’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you here.”

“I didn’t--tell him, tell him,” he’s starting to feel a little worn out now, probably from whatever it is they’ve given him, and he tries to keep his rage going strong, “tell him I’m not a little. I didn’t mean to--to sign the, I just signed  _ up _ . And got the e-mails. I didn’t mean to sign--no, actually, I  _ didn’t sign _ ”--

“It’s okay, little one. You’re going to be well taken care of. There’s no reason to be afraid.”

I’m not  _ afraid _ ! I’m not supposed to  _ be here _ !”

He’s so frustrated that he can’t even get his story out in a coherent and concise manner. He can’t stitch together the proper words even though it’s the  _ truth _ . He’s nto making this story up, not hiding behind whatever weird bullshit internalized stigma Tall Lady had claimed he is, he’s not embarrassed to be here, he’s not  _ hiding _ anything. He’s just  _ afraid _ because they’re not  _ listening _ or  _ hearing _ him, they’re not giving him the benefit of the doubt. Sure, maybe people changed their minds. But didn’t they deserve to do that, too? Shouldn’t they have that right?

Was anything about this even  _ ethical _ in the end?

“It’s okay.”

“You’re not  _ listening! _ ”

Changkyun hates that they won’t listen to him. They hear but they won’t listen, making up stupid little excuses in their minds to get him to be a part of their weird fantasy. Hates that they act like they’re  _ knowing _ of his situation when they don’t know a thing. He tries to fiddle with the straps again. They’re standing back as if waiting for something, for some kind of reaction. But he’s not going to wait any longer, and gets back to working on his straps.

“I didn’t  _ mean _ to  _ sign _ ”--

“Don’t touch these. They’re not toys.”

The man--what was his name? The man goes and bats Changkyun’s hands away.

“No shit. I don’t play with toys, I’m  _ not _ a little! I’m not a little!”

“You don’t have to know any of that yet, it’s okay,” the man says so reassuringly, so fondly, as if he’s amused by Changkyun. He stares down at him with such a soft smile. If it were any other situation, Changkyun wouldn’t want to punch his pretty face in.

“I’m not a  _ fucking _ little!” He kicks at the seats in frustration, his fingers growing shaky and tired, rubbed raw from the last hour of trying to rip the straps apart. They’re red and irritated and they hurt and he’s pulling hard enough to break the skin now.

“Changkyunnie, no, hey, no. No. Stop that,” the man is grabbing his hands again to hold them and his vision blurs as he blinks, rapidly blinking to see clearly again. So that’s what they’re waiting for. They’re waiting for the drugs to kick in so they can take him inside. Smart bastards. He can feel the blood trickling from two fingers on his left hand, the middle and the pointer, where most of the pressure for getting the straps apart had been applied. It tickles smally. It smears onto the man’s hands but he doesn’t say a word or move away.

“We’re going to need a couple bandaids once we go in,” the man says to the women, “hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Changkyun is  _ not _ okay and neither is this situation, he thinks. He’s starting to get really tired now, struggling to keep his eyes open, forcing his body to keep moving. If he stops moving, he’ll fall asleep, he can tell. He fights the drugs in his system by thrashing around, hoping that his adrenaline will spike now, that he can stay awake long enough to get them to leave him be, to discourage them from taking him, to bargain? Or long enough to wait for a chance to run.

“Don’t, don’t . . . please, my friends will wonder about me.” He lies, fuck it. He lies, and all the man does is just smile and nod.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetie. Close your eyes. It’s okay, you can let go now. Close your eyes.”

He’s sure that the man doesn’t let go in the physical sense and he makes note of that mentally as he starts to close one eye. Just to rest it. He’ll keep the other one open to be aware of his surroundings and let them know that he’s not giving up that easily. No he won’t be. He’s a  _ fighter _ , metnally and physically, and he can  _ do this _ . He  _ can’t _ let go. Can’t just leave his life behind, can’t just give everything up. Because then, what would he have worked  _ so _ hard for in his life? Everything would have been in vain, wouldn’t it have? All the literal blood, sweat and tears he’s faced, all the hardships, all the long nights spent wondering if he was going to be okay only for the sun to rise, all the hours he’s spent dead on his feet, all the sunrises he’s watched from windows hoping that it meant a new beginning for just one. Single. Time. For him. And just for him. 

How could he let that go?

But, he supposes, is that what he had signed up for? To let go of all that hardship, all that pain? No more sleep for dinner, no more using loose change to pay for things, no more washing laundry in the sink. No more moving around for cheaper and cheaper rooms due to inflation, no more jobs that dehumanized his  _ humanity _ , no more bad managers and bully bosses and spoiled customers? No more bitter winds eating at his face and extremities, no more broken heaters, burst pipes, no more naps in libraries between shifts? 

What was a pro and what was a con here?

His dignity, his righteousness, his  _ right _ to earn a living or build a life? Was that it? Or is that the illusion society painted for him to blame him for being poor and unsuccessful in life? There is no such thing as a man made millionaire, after all. Just well shadowed businessmen and illusions of lies of struggles pretended to be had, and foretold fortune. Societal classes moving up or down like elevators he always heard about. 

And yet, he’s never seen it.

So, is that something he would be letting go of? His right to fail, his right to be poor or rich or just enough to pay the bills and have a dog he spoils? Or is that the illusion he’d been hiding behind like shadow monsters made out of hands on flat, dark walls, masks painted to keep him parading his pride of progress around? He struggles to even understand that, so how can he let go? Who’s to even say there is something there for him to let go of? That had been his hopelessness that had led him here, correct?

He doesn’t know. He’s  _ tired _ .

“C’mon, Changkyunnie, let’s close your eyes now. Let’s take a nap, huh?”

A nap sounds  _ so good _ right about now, but he’s not an idiot. It’s a trick to get him asleep so they can move him, and he won’t have it. He rocks side to side again, struggling. He’s  _ so _ dizzy now, the world not spinning but making him  _ feel _ like it is. He doesn’t see it spinning about or swirling around but he feels sick and he can’t help it. He  _ needs _ to block it out. He  _ needs _ to close his eyes. He hears one of the women say something but he can’t fully make it out, his eyes finally starting to close. He can still hear them, can still hear the man’s voice as he starts to hum so softly. He hates him. 

He can do this, he can do this.

“That’s it,” the man singsongs him, “good boy. Let’s close our eyes, huh?”

Changkyun slams his head back against the headrest now, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He’s so dizzy. He feels like he’s on a boat now but he isn’t quite sure  _ why _ since he doesn’t feel like he’s being rocked by anything specifically. He just feels  _ sick _ . He breathes out hard, exaggerated breaths through his mouth to calm himself, listening to the shushes of the man and the sweet tone of his words.

“That’s it, that’s a good boy. We’ll be alright. You’re alright, little one.”

He hates that, hates the ‘little one’, hates the tone it’s said in. Dripping with sugary sweetness, with  _ affection _ , as if this man has earned the right to be affectionate to him at all. But it’s like he is the one with privilege, talking down to him like this, like he’s so much  _ older _ , so much more  _ responsible _ , so much more . . .  _ grown _ .

_How_ _ironic_ _for_ _him_ , he thinks. He laughs a bit, his mouth wide open to breathe in the chilly air of spring. What a weird season. He falls asleep with the wind on his face, the sun shining down onto his closed eyelids, dancing bright colors behind closed eyes. He can feel the freedom of loosening straps now, breathing audibly in distress as he tries to move his hands, unable to get them to cooperate. He can hear them, smell them, but even he can tell he’s starting to fade now. He’s too far gone, though this forced sleep cycle has just begun. 

At last, he is free of the straps, and feels someone--the man, it’s most likely that huge, strong, pretty man hates so much--his new _caretaker (_ he could _gag)--_ pulling him up to carry. He doesn’t remember being carried before in his life, isn’t sure of how it’s felt. He knows that he was probably carried as a child. Who wasn’t? But he doesn’t remember it, what it feels like to have his feet off of the ground, but he’s sure that it’s never felt this sturdy. He’s too far gone to worry about being dropped or hitting his head or _how_ he’s being carried, just knows he’s resting _against_ something. _something_ . Big and sturdy and soft. Is it the man? He hopes it’s not the man.

He knows he’s being moved and yet he can’t do anything about it. The air smells good, feels good, on his face. And he’s not so sure he’s ever felt this good in the springtime before, doesn’t remember the last time he could enjoy the sun like this. Even if he can still process the last bits of his consciousness, all he’ll remember is the springtime outside, the chirping of sweet, round birds in their nests, the rustle of bushes and branches in the wind. He remembers birds chirping at sunrises, lost staring up at the sky with some sense of tranquility. Some sort of hope. Some passion left in his veins. Will the trees grow flowers to bloom by the time he leaves, if he makes it out of here? He doesn’t know. 

He is asleep by the time he’s carried inside, no longer feeling the springtime on his skin.

  
  



	2. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoseok gets sleeping Changkyun ready to wake in his new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for blood mention, mention of injury, anxiety, non con bathing, the use of sedatives, mentions of diapers and pullups

Hoseok has seen this before.

Many, many times before. In all his experience as a caregiver, he’s thought he’s seen it all. However, he will admit that no one has ever fought quite like Changkyun. He didn’t need to sedate littles very often but whenever he did, they often were out within a couple long minutes. He didn’t think anything of it when the staff radioed in that the new little was aggressive and lashing out. Changkyun was certainly a bit violent but he was also extremely overwhelmed and confused. And that wasn’t abnormal for any new little coming into their care.

Hoseok thanks his two senior staff members, unable to bow properly with his arms full of the new little, but they bow back and wave goodbye, off to go sign their paperwork that would be added to Changkyun’s file. His file was a decent size but not much thicker than the normal envelope of paperwork. It had his background, any medical files, paperwork on how he was picked up and then his routine checkups would be added along with Hoseok’s own notes on how he was progressing every week. He’d have to write daily and he could already see that Changkyun was going to be a very stubborn little. But stubborn littles weren’t bad, just a bit more difficult to work with because of the complexity of their emotions and their brains, and their reactions. Changkyun was going to be a  _ tough _ little, if their little car seat struggle had shown him anything.

But he could be wrong. He’s certainly not one to judge a little by their appearance or their first day in the centre. It was new and scary and intimidating and he knew that he himself wasn’t the softest looking person. But most littles got over his size in a few days, happy to have someone who could carry them and hold them as easily as he could as time went on. And he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

“Is that your new little?” A nurse whispers at him as he walks by, mouthing the sentence with excitement. He nods, pressing a finger to his lips. She peeks around the desk and her mouth opens wide but she makes no noise. She’s worked there for a while and he trusts her completely to not be loud or overbearing with the new incoming littles. “He’s so cute.”

“He  _ is _ a cutie,” Hoseok mouths back. And it’s true; Changkyun is very cute. He’s got pretty eyes, even though they were now closed as he dozed on his shoulder, his short but thick lashes barely fluttering, thin face pressed up against the crook of his shoulder. He had high cheekbones, true to his foxish looks, and Hoseok was sure that if he wanted a pacifier he’d look so sweet with it. If he gained a little weight his cheeks would probably be so round and so cute. He’d have to try out a red or blue pacifier first, for sure.  _ His _ new little seemed simple, elementary colors most likely his favorite. But even if he was simple, he was certainly going to be a challenge.

“Here’s the bandaids,” the nurse hands him a few and he nods a thank you. He gestures upstairs and the nurse waves goodbye, cooing at the still-sleeping Changkyun before returning to her work at her desk. He enters the elevator, adjusting the little’s head as he presses the button to their floor. The floor that would be Changkyun’s new home, the floor he would never leave until he was adopted or for his routine checkups. The lobby to the center was the registration and welcome center and each floor was the home to a caregiver and their little, or group of littles. Some only had one and some had a whole group, depending on their needs and experience level. Hoseok has had groups before of two or three and routinely worked with other littles. Playdates were common and encouraged so that littles could socialize and learn how to behave properly with one another and on their own as well. There were littles who were shy and anxious and didn’t do well in groups and that was okay. They would learn to wade out of their shells eventually. And then there were littles who actively bullied other littles, which wasn’t okay at all. He’d had experience with littles all over the spectrum but the bullies were much harder to get to break the habits of.

Hoseok exits the elevator and immediately walks over to the couch in the open living space to place Changkyun down for the moment’s being. Their floor was nice; an open living plan, for the most part, so he could see the living room and dining area from the open kitchen. The sofa was long and blue and sectional so that things couldn’t be hidden away, the living area little-proofed and clear of all things. Communal toys were kept in the toybox near the end of the sofa and soon he would figure out which ones suited Changkyun well. If he  _ was _ a little. Middles existed, too, and he wouldn’t be super surprised if Changkyun regressed to middlespace before anything else. The playmat was folded up and the rug was rolled up currently and everything was pretty much bare. Over the course of the next few weeks, it would start to get more cluttered with things and over the months it would even out to be neat and organized and clean but full of whatever it was that helped Changkyun regress. Every new little would be welcomed with a clean home, free of any evidence of the little there before them. All the kept toys, books, clothing and bedding were all neutral and plain, not just for gender but for aesthetic and theme as well.

The kitchen island was almost always empty, two chairs behind it to make a makeshift breakfast bar. The tops were a black granite and pretty and bound to be covered in messes as time went on. The fridge held only magnets where hopefully pictures and crafts would be displayed on the stainless steel double door fridge that had a safety lock, same with all of the drawers and cabinets. As extra as it was to have to unlock the fridge and cabinets everytime, Hoseok was happy to have the corner edge guards. He’s banged his hip and elbows on the edge of counters and tables enough to actually  _ want _ them. But everything else, even wooden spoons and pot holders, had to be locked away since they could potentially be a hazard. Anything could be a hazard or a weapon if the person was creative enough.

The dining area would probably be utilized for Changkyun only. The breakfast bar was where he’d scoff down food in between his own little’s feeding times. Being a caregiver was hard work, and required lots of patience and self sacrifice. He ate at different times than his little, slept only similar hours and had to manage personal hygiene in between. It was not the easy work that others thought it was but it was well worth it in his mind. Keeping active was never much of a problem because of how much energy littles would exert but the first few days would be mostly rest and recovery for both of them. 

He washes his hands in the kitchen sink, drying them on the hand towel kept above the kitchen shelf and begins to map out the rest of their first day together. Time was a crucial thing for them, and he’d have to make sure Changkyun also slept through the night. Or most of it. Otherwise, his routine wouldn’t stick, and a messed up sleep schedule was the hardest thing to fix. He needed him washed, changed and fed and he definitely needed to start helping him with his emotional awareness as soon as possible.

He’d definitely take advantage of the sedative and wash him up and change him into pajamas, which was only a first day thing. Strict routines were important and changing into pajamas usually was only meant for bedtime or a big nap. And day clothes were to get him into the headspace of getting ready for the day. There would probably be a ton of tears and fighting today, and most likely no bath. Most littles did not bathe for the first day or so, simply learning to adjust to being with a new caregiver. Caregivers needed to earn their trust, too, and Hoseok didn’t like to force his littles to blindly trust him simply because he says they have to. He knows it’s scary and hard for them. Bathing them when they’re asleep is much more mortifying for some of them, so it’s a toss up. But it’s easier and it’s to both of their advantages so that he can get him clean without a fight. He’ll wash Changkyun’s hair and give him a sponge bath before he wakes up and change him into neutral, warm pajamas and socks.

He makes sure Changkyun is secure on the couch before he goes into the nursery, a standard nursery with pastel green walls. There’s little wall decals of cartoon trees, some baby lion stickers and some clouds. It’s meant to be soothing. There are no windows but the lights are bright and he can dim them down low. Nightlights stand on the nightstand and are plugged into the outlet, turned off. There’s a fabric bin of some stuffed animals in the corner of the room, all washed and blow dried, soft and fresh and ready to be hugged, thrown, ripped apart, whatever their fate may be. Some littles weren’t particularly happy to have a signature stuffed toy and some latched onto them immediately. He would either let Changkyun pick one or he would pick one out  _ for _ him. Currently, he was getting a normal teddy bear or stuffed fox vibes from him.

The furniture is a dark grey, with easy lock bars on the side of the bed to be a crib. It doesn’t matter what mindset the little regressed to, the bars were there for safety and routine. The dresser was full of standard clothes and garments, nothing personalized yet, and the closet was full of warmer clothes, actual outfits, different sizes and blankets and pillows. Simple lightweight flannel pajamas would do. He chooses the blue and tucks them under his arm to take them back with him, going to rifle through the dresser drawer of supplies. He didn’t think Changkyun would need a diaper or a pullup. Dressing him in one would either result in a meltdown, a fight or help him to actually regress. He had no idea which reaction to expect between new littles but for Changkyun? It would definitely be a fight. He thinks on it for a moment and decides to go with the pullups. It’s a soft and light incontinence underwear, a simple blue color, and he can definitely get away with explaining to Changkyun that it’s for his own health, in case he’s out for a long time under the sedative. He won’t be out long enough to wet himself but he doesn’t need to know that.

No one uses baby powder anymore because of the talc but there’s cornstarch and baking soda if they absolutely need it but he doubts they will. If this new little is going to be as difficult as he thinks he is then he won’t be using diapers and Hoseok won’t force him to just yet. He doesn’t need a big fight on his hands more so than he already is going to get.

He walks into the bathroom to lay the pajamas onto the counter with the pullup and socks, and makes sure to have a washcloth and towel ready. He’ll sponge Changkyun down and wash his hair and get him into the already made bed. He won’t have any stuffed animals to sleep with yet and just the standard blanket. No pacifier and no noise machines, and he’ll definitely need to hide the nanny cam and walkies. He walks back out into the living room where the little currently lies, still sleeping, looking sweet but a little bothered. Changkyun is very cute but he has an intimidating look to him that’s probably benefited him throughout his life. It makes him seem even cute to Hoseok. He’d probably pout adorably and he’d have to watch out for that. 

He starts by removing Changkyun’s sneakers and socks, discarding them on the floor beside the couch. It would be easier to undress him here and carry him into the bathroom. He’s not wearing anything too specifically grown up; jeans and a hoodie, with a t-shirt underneath. He works his jeans off gently, folding them up to place beside the couch. The hoodie is a zip up thank god and he unzips it with care and folds that up, too. The shirt is a little more difficult to get off and it’s honestly something he’d left Changkyun wear in the future, a plain white tshirt with a red collar. It would look cute with overalls or regular shorts. He removes his boxers last and the rubber bracelet on his left hand, placing it on the table to store away for later. He could probably have it back once he was settled in. He’d never throw out any little’s personal items.

“Up we go,” he whispers, lifting Changkyun into his arms again. He carries him into the bathroom, tossing his folded clothes into the hamper and placing him down into the empty tub. He’d fill a bucket with lukewarm water and wash him that way, starting with his hair.

Hoseok liked bathing his littles. Bathing was always something that people could look forward to to feel better, and helped them establish a routine, especially littles. His policy was a bath five days a week, unless they’d gone out, and always at night so that the little would hopefully be sleepy by the end. Morning baths were nice, too, but bathing at night was better to wash away all of the day and to slide into bed right after. Hoseok always had bath toys and bath crayons for his littles and encouraged them to play, and most did. He knew Changkyun probably wouldn’t.

“Just gonna wash your hair now,” he narrates, too used to the habit of announcing everything for the comfort and safety of his littles. Even if he was asleep, Changkyun was owed that courtesy, too. He wanted him to know that he was cared for in all states of his consciousness. He uses a bucket and fills it with warm water to help rinse his hair and Changkyun stirs a bit, blissfully still asleep but not quite unaware. He makes a few noises throughout the ordeal, shifts a bit, but remains sedated for the most part.

Bathing him wasn’t hard, and he towels him off and changes him into the pullup, making sure it’s snug before dressing him in the pajamas. He smells strongly of rose petal shampoo now, scent obviously strong as he carries him into the nursery. The light blue carpet is plush under his feet and he pulls back the covers to lie Changkyun down on his back, covering him with the blanket. He takes a moment to just observe him, look at him, as a stranger that he doesn’t yet know but will learn to. He will learn everything about Changkyun, note everything about him. His emotions, what makes him tick, how deeply he feels, what he hates, what he dreams about, what he loves but will never admit to. His guilts and regrets, his worries and his desires. He would learn them all, and then he would help to grow him into a different but equally loving mould.

“Sweet dreams, little one,” Hoseok whispers, dimming the lights down low for him to sleep. He turns the monitor on and grabs the pair to bring into the living room with him, keeping the door slightly cracked. He’d be up in a couple hours and he needed to be close by and ready for when Changkyun awoke, expecting a hostile and concerned reaction. He would be confused and hurt and maybe embarrassed and he’d have to be ready to help him process all of those things he was feeling at once. It would be hard for him but Hoseok was more than ready to help guide him through that. But for now, he’d have to cook and do some meal prepping for the next few days since he wouldn’t have the time to cook with his hands full of Changkyun. He now needed to prep the kitchen especially and even special formula in case Changkyun refused to eat, which some littles did.

Changkyun didn’t stir much, didn’t make a noise as he slept, and Hoseok left him in order to go finish getting everything ready for the next few days and to help welcome his new little and get them settled in. It didn’t matter how big of a challenge it seemed or would be. Changkyun would regress, he would get him there. It didn’t matter how stubborn the little was, how grown up they thought they were, how independent or unbothered they were. Hoseok was experienced and he was  _ good _ at what he did and he would definitely get Changkyun to where he needed to be, one way or another. 

He  _ always _ did. 

  
  
  



	3. Hover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changkyun wakes up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for anxiety, overstimulation, restraining and manipulation

Changkyun is warm. He’s warmer than he remembers but it happens in the summer and the springtime, as the weather rolls back around to haunt him and wrap him up tight in its arms. He could  remember the heat of falling asleep in a hoodie, waking up too warm, or too cold, and neither stands out to him much. But he’s comfortable, and he’s warm and he feels clean and soft.

It is not so foreign to him. 

He stirs awake, shifting about and rubbing his ankles together as he moves. He opens his eyes, blissfully aware that he is no longer in his own bed at home. He stares up at the white ceiling, small star stickers stuck there, the type that probably glow in the dark. But they are not so strong, and they don’t light up the room so much. Changkyun blinks and looks around.

He stiffens when he notices the man--the stranger--in the corner of the room, sitting in a rocking chair, rocking himself meagerly back and forth with a foot. He takes him in now as he looks him up and down. Absorbs the body that looks too big for such a gentle thing as a rocking chair, the shorts he’s wearing and the black socks. He’s got a long sleeve shirt on, and Changkyun has always wondered why people wear long sleeves and shorts. What’s the point? Aren’t they still cold? But he doesn’t ask. Exposed skin means a chance to bite. The man is looking at him, blonde hair looking wet. He doesn’t make a move or say anything, just stares at him, rocking.

“Changkyunnie, are you awake now?”

Changkyun feels his stomach drop but he doesn’t say anything.

“We’re inside your bedroom now. You took a nap and we changed you into your pajamas. Can you tell me how you’re feeling with your words?”

And there it is again, that tone of voice, so babyish and soft that he could gag. He thinks about how he feels but he doesn’t say it. He feels sick, maybe, stomach twisting with hunger but also anxiety. He wouldn’t be able to choke down food like this. But he feels okay. His head swims a little when he shakes out his bangs, going to touch them. They’re slightly damp and he doesn’t think it’s from sweat.

“Why am I wet?”

“I washed your hair.”

“You gave me a  _ bath _ ?” Changkyun is teetering dangerously close to the edge of a fight he won’t be able to hold his own weight in. 

“A sponge bath and washed your hair, yes. Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt you. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah because I trust a stranger,” Changkyun sits up now, blinking to focus on his surroundings. He feels okay. His vision isn’t blurry and his head doesn’t pound. But he still feels funny, and it’s probably due to the stress and hunger and dehydration, really. He needs to pee and he thinks he’s hungry but his stomach  _ hurts _ from the pain, now. 

“I’m going to get up now, okay?”

Changkyun frowns when the man stops rocking and pushes himself out of the rocking chair and stretches out his legs. 

“Can you tell me how you feel?”

“Violated, kidnapped.”

“Okay, that’s okay. But you’re safe, you know that, don’t you?”

Changkyun doesn’t feel safe. He’s bristling at the idea that this man saw him naked, touched him naked probably. He doesn’t really know what a sponge bath constitutes. And he’d washed his hair and changed his clothes. That doesn’t sit well with him. In fact, the more he thinks about it, the angrier he gets. It enrages him. Not only is he being forced to stay here against his will, as someone who  _ isn’t _ a little, he’s now been stripped and bathed against his will. While he was unconscious. He doesn’t like that.

The man squats down to pick something up near the rocking chair, a blanket he thinks, and Changkyun acts without thinking. 

He takes advantage of the man’s position and runs at him full force, knocking him over. He puts his entire weight into it, throwing himself on top of him. The man is momentarily surprised but Changkyun has watched enough fights on television to know how to wrestle someone. Maybe. He thinks he does. He goes to wrap his hands around the man’s throat and presses his knees into his stomach. Immediately, the man has him by the wrists and presses up.

“Changkyun! No!”

Changkyun growls as he tries to pull away from him, leaning back too far and tumbling off of the man. He presses the hands he’s holding down towards Changkyun’s body and pulls him down into a hug, then tugging him to lean against his body. In a moment’s flash, his leg is pressing Changkyun’s own down and he has him restrained faster than Changkyun has ever seen.

He hates him. 

He tries to knock his head back to hit the man in the face or the chin or something, but he’s scooted him down and he just headbutts his chest. That’s gotta hurt, right?

“Let go of me!”

“No. I don’t think I can trust you right now.”

“Let  _ go _ !”

“I think”--

“ _ Let go!” _

“No, Changkyunnie. I think you’re very overwhelmed right now and you need to calm down.”

“Fuck!”

“We don’t like words like that.”

Changkyun screams and thrashes as best he can, trying to twist out of the man’s hold to bite onto his arm. But he’s holding him so  _ hard _ that he can’t. 

“I think,” he starts again, “that you’re  _ very _ very cranky and hungry and I bet you need to go potty, too. And that’s all too much added on to your emotional stress right now. And you’re overstimulated and don’t have the words to express that right now. But that’s not an excuse to do what you did. You  _ never _ try to hit me or anyone else, or yourself, do you understand? We don’t hit to get what we want.”

Changkyun pants, still squirming in his hold. He is hungry and he does need to pee but more so, he needs to be out of his grip more than anything. He doesn’t like the man’s hold on him or how his skin is rubbing against the pajamas that are then rubbing against his back, making him itchy and warm. It’s not a nice feeling.

“So, we’re going to stay like this until we calm down.”

Changkyun mumbles something incoherent and gives up. He wants to be let out of the hold. He doesn’t like being hugged, especially not in a restraining position.

“We’re going to take a deep breath now, okay? Big breath for me, Changkyunnie.”

Changkyun  _ can’t _ take a deep breath because it makes him  _ angrier _ and  _ more _ overstimulated. He hears the man take a breath. 

“Follow my breathing. Can you do that?”

Changkyun shakes his head but not to be stubborn, which he would normally oblige those urges to be obnoxious. He wants to be  _ let go _ and not held like this. It’s not painful, just uncomfortable and he doesn't like it.

“Let go,” he whispers, pedaling his feet. “Please.”

“If I let go of you, are you going to run or hit?”

Changkyun shakes his head again.

“Okay. I’ll let go and you will sit cross legged where you are, okay? Do you understand that, Changkyunnie?”

He nods.

“Good boy.”

As promised, the man lets go of him and he scrambles a few feet away, crawling on his hands and knees. He sits though, just so the man doesn’t grab him again, and he places his hands on his knees.

“Don’t grab me again.”

“I didn’t grab you, I held you, because you were doing something very dangerous. Weren’t you?”

“I don’t  _ like _ it! Don’t grab me!”

“Changkyunnie,” again, that stupid tone, “did I scare you? Did you think I was going to hurt you?”

Changkyun just breathes.

“I mean it, Changkyun. No one will hurt you here. It’s okay. Now, take a deep breath for me.”

“I don’t wanna breathe.”

“Changkyun”--

“No! It makes me feel  _ worse _ !”

“Okay,” the man sits down where he is, “then we’ll just sit here until we feel better, okay?”

He doesn’t like the ‘we’ statements very much. But he sits there because he doesn’t know what else to do. Should he try and run? Will that make it worse? No, he can’t be stupid. He has no idea where the hell he even  _ is _ ? Somewhere inside the building, probably. But even that he can’t be so sure of. 

“What time is it?”

“It’s nearly three in the afternoon. You were asleep for a couple hours. I bet you’re hungry.”

If he thinks trying to bribe Changkyun with food is going to work, he’s wrong. Changkyun is used to hunger, he can deal. And sure, he needs to pee, but he can hold it. He’s not five. 

“I’m not a little. You  _ have _ to let me go.”

“Changkyunnie. That’s not for me or you to decide right now. Okay? So how about we get a snack and then we can settle down.”

Changkyun feels more than unheard, and rightfully so. He feels jested, feels cornered, feels like a  _ hostage _ . He doesn’t want food or water, he wants to be released. Even if they just let him walk out of the building with nothing, he will be fine. He doesn’t care about that chance, he’ll make it on his own. And if he doesn’t, then oh well. He really doesn’t care.

“You have to,”

“Changkyunnie, I’m asking you to stop one more time. If I have to ask you again, you’re going to go in time out. Do you understand?”

Changkyun wants to lash out in a way that will  _ warrant _ time out, but he doesn’t know what time out even means. Is it time in the corner? Will he be tied up? Will he be forcibly held again? He doesn’t think he can handle that, so he doesn’t say a word. He crosses his arms and huffs.

“Are we feeling any better?”

Again with the ‘we’ statements. He doesn’t know why the man feels the need to be so inclusive but he just nods. If he can’t do anything for the meantime, he might as well eat something. And pee. He needs to pee.

“Do Changkyunnie think he wants to try a snack?”

_You_ _can’t_ _bribe_ _me_ , he wants to yell. But if he can’t do anything yet, if he needs time to plan an escape, then he should. He should start to map out the layout and a routine so he can see what gaps are in this man’s idealized schedule for them both. 

He nods.

“Good boy,” the man finally smiles and goes to stand up and Changkyun remains seated. He isn’t sure if he should be terrified of him or not but he tries to at least comply with the man so he doesn’t get grabbed again. He scoots back when the man takes a couple steps towards him before stopping.

“We don’t eat in the nursery. Hyung will take Changkyunnie to the kitchen okay? And you can play in the living room with your new toys.”

_ What part of I’m not a fucking litle, does he not understand?  _ Changkyun sighs in exasperation, leaning back to show how uncomfortable he was. Did this man not understand that he didn’t want to be touched? Especially not by someone who had stripped him and washed him while unconscious? He  _ hates _ him, he’s keeping him here, keeping him locked up and forcing him to be who he isn't and something he is not. He doesn’t  _ want _ to be touched by him.

“Can hyung pick you up?”

“No.”

“Changkyun”--

“No.”

“Okay then. Would you like to sit here some more or did you want to walk?”

“Walk.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” the man pats his own knees, keeping his distance for the moment. “You get up and we’ll go get some crackers and water. You can’t have juice until I know you’ve had some water.”

Changkyun frowns at that statement but he just chooses to ignore it, pushing himself up and dusting off his knees. He stands there for a couple minutes, adjusting to being on his legs again. The man watches him carefully before taking a few more steps in his direction and immediately, Changkyun steps back.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Okay, hyung will try not to touch you for now. But Changkyun, whenever I need to pick you up or wash you or change you, I will have to touch you and you’re not going to throw a fit over it. Do you understand me?”

Changkyun doesn’t say anything and the man’s smile fades again, becoming more tight lipped. He balls his fists up so hard that his shorts nails dig into his palms and if he so wanted to, he could draw blood to smear on the walls. He should. He should wreck this place. And maybe he will. But for now . . . 

He nods.

  
  



	4. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changkyun has a snack and very bad day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw and tw for anxiety, guilt, tantrums, meltdowns, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, abuse (yes this is abuse), threatens of spanking, and pee description (?) 
> 
> Please remember not to romanticize this or even think it’s justified.

Snack time, for the most part, goes smoothly. Hoseok gives Changkyun a plastic cup of water, the cup a soft blue with little balloons, only 8oz. The crackers he makes a point of showing Changkyun while they’re unopened and then snagging two to eat in front of him to show him that it's okay to eat. 

“See? No weird flavors, just crackers.” He chews it and then lays 8 out on an equally blue plastic plate for Changkyun. “If you want more, just ask.” 

Changkyun sits on the floor of the living room with his crackers and water, nibbling at them and picking at his nails, which Hoseok intervenes for twice before he stops. He taps the back of his wrist and tells him to stop and Changkyun scoots away each time. He’s a cutie.

He drinks most of his water from what he can see and eats five of the crackers before he stops and begins to pick at his nails again.

“Changkyunnie,” he calls in a soft voice, walking over from where he’s sitting on the sofa, “don’t do that. Do you need something to keep your hands busy?”

Changkyun doesn’t respond. 

“Can you eat the rest of your crackers for me? And then when you’re done, we can try one of your new toys. How does that sound?”

Changkyun is slick, he’ll give him that. He tries to remain stoic but whenever he’s thinking, his eyes level out on a focal point somewhere, to avoid looking around. He can tell he’s thinking. He tries to pretend that he’s irresponsible, Hoseok thinks, when in reality he’s just deep in thought. Or, he’s spacing out. But it’s more than likely that he’s thinking, because he usually gives a verbal response after. Hoseok is slowly starting to learn about Changkyun. 

“I’m full.”

Hoseok knows that he’s either lying or is anxious, and having a little whose anxiety affects their appetite and tummy can be challenging. He could just not be hungry anymore, too. But he doesn’t particularly believe it.

“Okay, then we’ll put the rest of the crackers away and we’ll eat them next time. Can you hand me the plate nicely?”

Changkyun’s jaw stiffens but he just picks it up and hands it to him with both hands, and he nods.

“Thank you. You’re being a very good boy, Changkyun.” 

He takes the crackers and puts them back into the box and puts it away in one of the cabinets, making sure it’s locked once he’s finished. He gets a cup of water for himself and downs it in one go, never taking his eyes off of Changkyun, who now focuses on his own cup. Hoseok takes a deep breath internally when he realizes that Changkyun still hasn’t peed. Which isn’t a problem if he just doesn’t have to go, but it’s been a long day, and Hoseok isn’t an idiot. He’s most likely holding it. Whether or not he’s caught on to the fact he’s wearing a pull up he doesn’t know, but since Changkyun isn’t screaming or breaking things, he probably hasn’t figured it out yet. He says a silent, hopeful prayer that Changkyun doesn’t fight him for the rest of the day.

He takes a moment to really observe Changkyun, who’s visibly facing the other way to ignore his new caregiver. He’s not really squirming much at all and he’s sitting pretty still. He either really needs to pee or he doesn’t, which should make the next question simple. 

“Changkyunnie,” he whispers, leaning against the kitchen island, “do you need to go potty?”

Changkyun is silent again and Hoseok takes a few steps closer to the couch now. “Hyung asked you a question, Changkyun.”

He can see the huff of breath he gives when he crosses his arms and he knows he’s heard him. 

“Do you think you can try and pee for me at least? If you want to use the toilet, that’s fine. If you want to use your pullup, that’s fine, too.”

Hoseok isn’t cruel, he doesn’t enjoy the hard times with littles. And he’s not one to laugh at anything they’re going through, no matter how ridiculous they themselves may act. So, even though it’s comical when Changkyun whips his head around, eyes the size of dinner plates, he keeps a straight but suggestively gentle face. He can see his lips part now and his hand slowly (again, he thinks he’s sneaky) travels down to his waistband. But he doesn’t get very far, just feels the waistband of the pull up with the tips of his pointer and middle finger. It’s like he  _ wants  _ to say something but he doesn’t. He’s probably trying to figure it out on his own.

“Yes, Changkyunnie, you’re wearing a pullup. You were unconscious for a while, it’s standard to put you in a pullup.”

He can see him gritting his teeth now, obviously upset.

“If you don’t think you need the pullup, you need to tell hyung.”

Hoseok looks away to give Changkyun a  _ shred _ of dignity as he quickly grabs his crotch just to confirm. And now he can expect the meltdown in 3 . . . 2 . . .

“What  _ the fuck _ !?”

“We don’t use words like that,” Hoseok says sternly.

“You put me in a  _ diaper!? _ ”

“It’s a pull up. It’s no different than the incontinent underwear thousands of people wear every day”--

Changkyun pushes himself up now, albeit clumsily, and starts to really raise his voice now. “No! You did this to me because you’re so desperate to prove I’m a little when I’m  _ fucking not!”  _

“Lower your voice, please. We use inside voices here.”

“Fuck your inside voice and fuck you,” Changkyun starts to walk away now, towards the elevator, and Hoseok lets him. It’s also under lock and key and he can jam the button all he wants. It’s not going to work. He watches him jab at it before hitting it with a closed fist and he walks over to take him away. Changkyun punches the elevator door next, hissing in pain as it doesn’t budge. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he goes to snag him by the middle, to pick him up and carry him over to the couch, but Changkyun pushes him away. But Hoseok is bigger and stronger than him, than most people really, and Changkyun still has some semblance of the sedative in his system still. He can fight all he wants but Hoseok wins in the end, picking him up around the middle. He squirms as he lifts him up, kicking outward with his legs. Hoseok sighs. “Stop that, please. I’m asking you nicely. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Get  _ off _ ! Get  _ off of me! _ ” His scream this time is shrill and hurts his ears, but Hoseok doesn’t let him go. He really doesn’t want him to hurt himself but he’s struggling too much and he’s going to have to restrain him again. Good thing he’s got the pullup on if Changkyun turns out to be the type to angry pee. Hoseok has been peed on before in anger, to avoid restraints, punishments, spanking, etc. 

“You’re upset, you’re scared, and you’re lashing out. And I won’t be letting go of you until you calm down. I’ve said this before, Changkyunnie,” he sits down now, trapping Changkyun over his knee for the most convenient angle. He’s not going to spank him right now, that wouldn’t be right. He’s having a meltdown. 

Changkyun just yells an incoherent response, kicking backwards as Hoseok traps his legs between his own, holding his wrists and shushing him lowly. It’s not a very convenient pose, he knows this. But it’s one he will be familiar with if he keeps the tantrums up. 

“It’s okay, little one. It’s okay. You’re okay, Changkyunnie.”

Changkyun breathing turns into pants, and Hoseok uses a hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes, tucking them behind his ears. He knows that most littles need physical touch to help ground them, and others do not. But for his own safety, Changkyun needs to be physically held so he doesn’t break his hand punching the elevator door.

“Deep breath, kitty cat. Deeeeep breath in, deeeep breath out. Just like that. Good boy.”

Changkyun takes a few shaky breaths, but he doesn’t stop fighting Hoseok. He wriggles around less, keeps his feet pattering against the floor, but puts his head down on the couch sideways. He can feel his tummy expand more, breathing deeper, and he rubs Changkyun’s back.

“That’s my good boy. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You’re okay.”

There’s a pregnant pause that lingers in the air, surrounding them, and when Changkyun speaks, Hoseok can tell there’s something there. It’s not anger, really, but it’s a bit hoarse.

“Let me up.”

“No. I’ve told you, if you start acting”--

“I gotta pee, let me up. Please.” The ‘please’ is tacked on at the end quietly, as if he’s chewing nails to say it, but it’s there and Hoseok appreciates it. 

“Do you need to pee or are you saying that so I will let you up?” 

“I have to go. I’ve, uh, I’ve had to go for a couple hours now. Just. Don’t wanna use the pullup. You said I didn’t  _ have to _ \--Let me up?”

Hoseok takes a moment to think. He appreciates Changkyun’s honesty, and if that’s the truth, he needs to get him to the bathroom before he has an accident and uses the pullup  _ anyway _ . Or at least, up off of his lap, where his knees are probably digging into Changkyun’s bladder.

“I did say that, yes. Listen to me very closely, Changkyun. We’re going to get up and go to the potty. You will  _ not _ yell, swear or hit anything or anyone. Do you understand?”

“Fuck,” he swears in a hushed whisper as he wiggles around, “yes. I understand.”

“Good boy.”

Hoseok lets go of him, helping Changkyun to his feet now. He looks a little sweaty, like he could use a scrub of the face, and he takes him by the arm towards the bathroom. It’s a good sized bathroom, because he’s going to need room to undress his littles (especially if they fight) and the toilet is right next to the door. He doesn’t think Changkyun needs monitoring but he’s always been a stickler for his own rules.

“Go on. You keep the door cracked so Hyung knows that you’re alright.”

Changkyun looks at him now, mouth opening and closing a couple times. “I can’t--I can’t go if you’re watching,”

“I won’t be watching.”

“But if you’re listenin”--

“Changkyun. This isn’t negotiable. And if I need to stick my foot in the door to keep it open, I’m sure you won’t like that very much either, will you?”

Changkyun bites the inside of his cheek, he thinks, but he just enters the bathroom and closes the door enough. It’s not fully closed and Hoseok nods. 

“I really don’t want”--

“Changkyun, you said you had to go, so go.” Hoseok knows it’ll be hard the first few times to go when there’s pressure or when you think someone’s listening in or watching, but if the little needs to go, they’ll go. He waits for a bit, listening for sounds, of Changkyun lifting the lid or pulling down his pants or something, but nothing comes. He really doesn’t want to be mean on his very first day.

“Changkyunnie”--

“Stop annoying me.”

He allows himself to smile and a silent laugh behind the palm of his hand. Sure, it’s an attitude, and attitudes shouldn’t be tolerated but he has to laugh at the sass behind it. 

“Go potty, please.”

“I’m  _ trying _ . You try to pee under pressure.”

“There’s no pressure. I’m just here to make sure you’re safe.”

He can hear Changkyun lifting the lid on the toilet, though it’s barely present. He’s being quiet. That’s probably to ease his anxiety, and who he is by nature, just quiet. Hoseok stares down the loft, at the couch, wondering if he should give Changkyun his new toy after this or wait a bit. He hears a crinkling noise and an aggravated growl and wants to bang his head against the wall. 

“What is that?”

“...”

“Changkyun, answer me or I’ll come in there and then I  _ will _ be watching.”

“Just the pullup.”

“Okay,” he nods to himself, “try and finish up now.”

There’s no  _ rush _ to this, he knows Changkyun is nervous and he’s probably never peed with anyone standing by. He’s been made to think he’s been an adult his entire life, never needing to rely on anyone, using privacy as a shield and a right. And it is, to a certain extent. But he wishes the little would just  _ pee _ . He could threaten to take him back to the couch, but what would be the point in that? Besides scarring him on his first day and also damaging his bladder. He’s had littles with UTI’s before, and it’s not pleasant for them. He doesn’t want to see his littles sick, no matter how stubborn.

There’s more silence before he hears Changkyun peeing and once he does, he takes a few steps into the living room now to grab the stuffed fox out of the toy bin. It’ll help things run smoother now, he thinks, and a reward after doing something so big and scary might help Changkyun settle down instead of try and fight him again. He tucks the toy under his arm and wanders back, listening to the flush of the toilet and the water of the sink running. It cuts off after a moment, a moment he deems way too short, and Hoseok knocks on the door. 

“Nuh-uh. Go wash your hands properly. With soap and water. Count to twenty.”

“I  _ did _ wash my hands”--

“Soap and water, count to twenty please. Do I need to come in there?”

There’s no response for a second and Hoseok thinks he’s going to have another tantrum on his hands when he hears the sink turn on again. He would count out loud to drive the point home, but he’s giving Changkyun a chance to do something as simple as wash his hands properly. He counts up to twenty in his head, and sure enough, the faucet turns off.

“Good boy, Changkyunnie. Dry your hands on the towel, please.”

“I  _ know _ how to wash my hands, I’m an  _ adult _ , not a  _ little _ .”

“And yet, you washed your hands for two seconds. I’m not arguing with you, little boy. Come out here now, please.”

The door, still cracked, doesn’t open and Hoseok wonders if this is going to be an all day affair. He doesn’t mind, he has nowhere to be, and neither does his new little. If Changkyun wants to hide in the bathroom all day, he can handle that. He knows how overwhelmed he must be right now and if he needs to take a few moments to get situated, that’s okay.

Changkyun exits the bathroom, turning off the light, and steps outside. Hoseok looks him up and down once, determining that he’s okay, just nervous. He doesn’t look at him for the present being.

“Thank you for listening and being a good boy, Changkyunnie. I have something for you now. Would you like to know what it is?”

Changkyun looks up at him now but doesn’t respond. Hoseok will just have to be excited for the both of them. He holds up the stuffed fox in all her orange and white glory and waves it around for him.

“This is your new friend! Look, isn’t she pretty? Or, whatever pronouns you decide to use for her. Would you like to hold her?”

Changkyun looks at the stuffed fox and then looks at Hoseok and then scoffs, lifting an eyebrow. “I told you I don’t want stupid toys.”

“That’s not a very nice word,” Hoseok says.

“Stupid.” Changkyun says with all the bravery he didn’t quite have while he was stuck in the bathroom. “Stupid, fucking stupid.”

Hoseok pets the stuffed fox as an apology before tucking her back under his arm, going to lean against the wall now.

“I think someone’s embarrassed.”

Changkyun frowns.

“ _ Someone _ is embarrassed because they had a big tantrum earlier, and then had trouble with the potty, and that makes them feel embarrassed and no longer independent. Is that it? Is that why we’re suddenly being mean?”

Changkyun doesn’t respond. He just rolls his eyes and walk past and Hoseok lets him, only because it’s his first day and he took ten minutes just to pee. He goes and sits on the couch with his arms folded and his legs crossed. Hoseok counts to ten before he goes over, to give him those few seconds of self reflection and privacy.

“And I think that someone is feeling  _ conflicted _ because if they take their new toy and decide they  _ like _ their new toy, then they think that they’re a baby. And they think being seen or feeling that way is wrong. It’s not shameful or wrong, Changkyunnie. Whether you’re a little or a middle, it’s”--

“I’m  _ not _ ! I’m an  _ adult! _ ”

“Well, the adults I know don’t yell and throw fits. Do the adults  _ you _ know yell and throw fits?” Hoseok asks in a genuine quizzical voice, as if he doesn’t know the answer. 

“You  _ kidnapped _ me. I’ll do whatever I  _ want _ .”

“No, you won’t. You’ll do as I say because I am your caregiver and I know what’s best for your health and safety right now. You don’t have to take the toy. But it might be easier to have a new friend.”

He holds out the fox again and he can see the gears turning in his head, behind those beautiful, sparkly eyes, and Changkyun turns his head away to ignore him. That’s fine. He can ignore him all day if he likes. Until dinnertime, where he’ll most likely be forced to shove food into his mouth if he doesn’t cooperate. But if he gets hungry enough, he’ll eat.

They always do.

Hoseok takes a seat on the sofa, with enough distance between him and his new little, and places the toy down between them. Changkyun goes to scoot towards the end of the sofa more and Hoseok watches, observing the flash of skin as he moves, tugging his pants up just a bit. He frowns to himself and gets up.

“You stay right there. Hyung will be back in a few seconds.”

Of course he’s ignored, and he walks to the bathroom slowly, to make sure Changkyun doesn’t make any sudden or rash movements or decisions, and he sticks his head into the bathroom quickly. He goes into the bathroom and checks the trash can but it’s empty. He hums, coming back out and walking up to his new little who is glaring holes in the adjacent wall.

“Changkyunnie, show me your pullup.”

Nothing.

“Hyung asked you to do something. Did you hear me?”

Nada.

“Changkyunnie. I’ll ask you one more time very nicely. Can you show hyung your pullup?”

Nope.

“Did you take it off?”

Changkyun doesn’t look at him but he speaks. “Why do you wanna see, you weirdo?”

“Because, I think you took it off without asking me. And without telling me. And I think you tossed it somewhere that isn’t the trash can. But you didn’t flush it, because it would have clogged the toilet. So, where did you hide it?”

Changkyun is thinking, he knows he is.

“I’m asking you nicely so you have a chance to be honest with me and tell me. And then we can discuss why you did that and work through our feelings together. But I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me. And when you do things without asking or telling, and when you hide things, you become dishonest, Changkyunnie.”

“I’m  _ not _ a liar and I’m not showing you  _ anything. _ ”

“Then you took it off. Okay. Where did you put it? Not only is that lying to me, and deceiving me, that’s violating my trust in you and also an unsanitary thing to do. Even if your pullup wasn’t used. From now on, I think I have to be in the bathroom with you if you can’t be trusted alone.”

“No.”

“Then be honest with me. Where did you put your pullup?”

This isn’t the first time that a little has removed their diaper or pullup and it won’t be the last. But usually, they don’t  _ hide _ the evidence. Changkyun is smart, smarter than most of them that Hoseok has worked with, but he’s not a genius. He’s caught in a lie and he’s clearly not a spectacular liar.

He’s uncomfortable.

“Changkyun, I’ll ask you one more time. And I want an honest answer. If I don’t get one, I’m going to spank you and then you’re going to spend ten minutes in time out and you won’t get to have your stuffed fox until bedtime.”

He’s either brave, or he’s terrified, because he says nothing.

“That includes  _ ignoring me,  _ little one. I know you don’t want a spanking, and I don’t want to have to spank you. But I will.”

He is yet again on the end of radio silence and Hoseok sighs dramatically, shrugging his shoulders. “Okay. I guess you chose a sore bottom, then. What can I do?”

Hoseok takes one step towards him before Changkyun bolts, leaping over the back of the sofa nearly effortlessly. It’s a dumb move, because he heads in the direction of the kitchen and Hoseok walks at a fast pace right after him because he is  _ not _ running under his own roof. Changkyun is stuck behind the island now, and they circle one another, on their toes. Hoseok isn’t doing all of this to catch him and teach him a lesson. He just doesn’t want Changkyun in the kitchen of all places. Even if everything is locked up, he’s too smart for his own good.

“Changkyun. This needs to stop. I asked you a question, and all you need to do is give me an honest answer.”

“You’re gonna hit me.”

“I’m not going to hit you. If you keep acting this way, I  _ will _ spank you, yes.”

Changkyun shifts back and forth between the weight of his feet, eyes darting all over and Hoseok can't pinpoint his next move. But soon enough, he’s teetering near the edge of the island and when Hoseok circles back the other way on his right, he makes a break for it, and Hoseok almost laughs. 

Where is he going to go? The bathroom door doesn’t lock, the nursery door doesn’t lock, his own bedroom doesn’t lock. There’s security measures, of course. They lock with a key. Changkyun has nowhere to run, so where is he going? He doesn’t point any of this out, because he feels too much like a catpro right now, chasing after his prey. He just leans against the island and watches him scurry back into the living room, grabbing one of the pillows off of the couch. He holds it up like it’s a bat, as if the pillow is going to hold off against  _ him _ .

He laughs out loud.

“Okay, Changkyunnie.”

“Touch me and I’ll wreck your shit.”

“I’m sure you will. But all you have to do is tell me the truth. Because if I go in the bathroom and find your pullup, I’m still going to spank you. And I don’t think you’re going to like eating dinner on a sore tush, huh?”

“Do  _ not _ touch me.”

“I’m not moving,” Hoseok takes a seat at the island now, on one of the stools. “I have all day to sit here--well, we have two hours until I start cooking dinner, and then four until bedtime. Do you think you can tell me the truth in four hours?”

Changkyun just stands ready with his pillow. Hoseok is so glad to realize that he hasn’t figured out the toybox is a toybox, because if he throws a toy truck at his head, it’s all over.

“Let’s compromise: I’ll give you until bedtime to tell me the truth. How does that sound?” 

He swings the pillow violently, hitting nothing but air, just for show. 

“No!”

“No? So, Changkyunnie doesn’t want to compromise with Hyung? I think I’m being awfully fair. But if you say no, then I guess I’ll just come over there and spank your naughty little bottom right now.”

_ “No!” _

“You don’t want to tell me the truth, you don’t want to compromise and you don’t want a spanking? Is that what I’m hearing?”

He expects another ‘no’ but it doesn’t come. He taps his fingers against the island counter. “Do you think I  _ want _ to spank you?”

“Duh.”

“I don’t want to punish you. But I’m not going to let you act this way in  _ our _ home. You’ve been crude, you’ve been naughty, you’ve been disobedient and you’ve been lying. You  _ never _ remove your pullup or diaper or whatever Hyung puts you in. It’s there for your  _ health _ , Changkyun.”

“You  _ said _ I didn’t have to use it.”

“Yes, but I never said you could take it off. If you can use the potty, that’s fine. But what I dress you in is up to _me_ not _you._ I can see how that could have been a miscommunication, but you always _ask_. You don’t just _do it_. And you certainly do _not_ run from me, lie to me or do whatever _you_ _think_ is okay. Do we understand each other now?”

Changkyun falters, he can see it, in just a small ripple through time he looks confused, as if he’s ready to lay down his pillow. But he doesn’t. He grips it tight and close to him and takes a seat on the floor. He holds it in his arms like it’s a safety barrier, something to put between Hoseok and himself. But the way he rolls the threads of it between his fingers Hoseok can tell he’s just trying to ground himself.

“I just want to go home. Please, just let me go home.”

And there it is. The feelings they’ve spent all day chasing, finally breaking through that dam in a subconscious, emotional approach. He might be begging Hoseok, trying to get him to feel pity, feel sympathy, feel  _ bad _ for him and feel bad for ‘doing this’ to him. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel bad, or feel pity, or sympathy. Whether or not Changkyun signed the contract, he acquired about the program, he went through the website enough to know, to read (and if he didn’t, then oh well), he went through it all for a reason. He is clearly out of control, lost, hurt and confused. 

Changkyun, whether he likes this or not, needs it. And it’s not for him to decide that.

“I know it’s scary,” Hoseok speaks sweetly now, no longer having the threat of punishment looming over both of their heads, “but this is your new home. And if you give it a chance, you’ll learn to like it just as much as your old home.”

“No.”

“Well, it’s not for you to decide, Changkyunnie.”

“Yes it  _ is _ , it’s my  _ life _ , you can’t just take it from me!”

“What kind of life is a life where you do nothing but struggle? But cry?” Hoseok asks, still seated at the island. “Where you lose all your hopes and dreams because you can’t afford the luxury of that? Where you’re all alone? Where you can’t afford help? Is that a life, Changkyunnie?”

“You clearly don’t know,” Changkyun laughs a bit, looking down at his pillow sadly.

“I know a lot, little one. And it’s not a life. You don’t have to be scared anymore. You don’t have to be sad or feel the way you’re clearly feeling. You don’t have to feel guilty for wanting a good life.”

Changkyun punches the pillow a few times, softly, before sitting back down. He doesn’t look like he’ll respond anytime soon, but he’s calmer. And he probably won’t try and run around again for another fifteen minutes or so, so that’s a win-win if he’s ever had one. He’s broke down the first barrier and has dug deep, even if he’s digging alone, even if Changkyun isn’t ready to do anything with his emotions. He’s cracked him open just a bit and now he’s vulnerable. And that is right where they need him.

“Now. Are we ready to tell Hyung about the pullup?”

  
  
  



	5. Soap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changkyun won’t stop swearing and Hoseok does something about it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw and cw for anxiety, abandonment, swearing, violent behavior, blood mention, mouth soaping, assault (NOT sexual assault—it’s the mouth soaping) abuse, gaslighting, manipulation

Changkyun is not having a good day.

Yesterday was too much for him. He’d eventually told his caregiver where he’d thrown his pullup, folded neatly under the sink in the pack, and had avoided a spanking, sure. And then he’d had dinner and had to pee  _ again _ which wasn’t a pleasant experience. But he’d made it through, and then he’d fallen asleep in bed, in his pajamas, and hoped to finally wake up from this hellish nightmare. He wants to close his eyes and just be back to his normal self, in his apartment, with his shitty takeout food and his noisy roommates and their squabbling neighbors. At least, he could dream that this isn’t real. He could close his eyes and pretend he was just back in bed and that he’d be drifting off in his own room, and he could dream that he was back in his old life, working his old job, wearing his old clothes. Everything could be normal.

But then he wakes up and his eyes open and he stares up at the ceiling of his nursery and it’s  _ real _ . 

Thus, his horrible day begins.

He wakes up to his caregiver, and immediately starts to try and push him away because he just can’t handle that. Getting dressed is a nightmare, he kicks and screams but the man--Hoseok, he remembers--manhandles him into his clothes. It’s just a sweater and soft joggers, both green, but comfortable. But the clothes weren’t the issue. He pulls another pullup on him and Changkyun punches him in the jaw with a closed fist. And then Hoseok spanks him for a few minutes and gives him another ‘we don’t hit, blah blah blah’ lecture and by the time he is fully dressed he’s stressed and upset.

Then comes breakfast.

He’s hungry and he manages to eat most of what’s on his plate but then he gets mad about the pullup again because he has to pee, and he dumps his almondmilk onto the floor, throws another ‘fit’, and throws his food at his new caregiver. Hoseok sits him in the corner of the living room with a stress ball to squeeze. He throws the ball and refuses to sit down and Hoseok has to hold him for a half hour until he literally fights all of his energy out. He spits on him and laughs and Hoseok spanks him again, only longer and on his bare ass, and Changkyun claws at him the best he can but doesn’t get far. And then it’s back to the corner. 

The first spanking had left him a little stinging, but wasn’t very painful. The second one was awful though, and he was spanked long enough to have his bottom burning after, sore when he sits. He isn’t screaming in pain, it’s just a spanking, but his ass is irritable now and  _ he’s _ irritable now and when Hoseok brings him water in a sippy cup, he throws that, too. Which is probably exactly why he’s brought it in a sippy cup and not an open cup like at breakfast. 

By the time afternoon rolls around, he’s been spanked twice, had three time outs, been restrained, had the stuffed fox taken away (not that he  _ cares _ about the dumb fox) and has been banished to ‘quiet activities’. He’s given crayons and paper but when he throws the crayons, Hoseok just moves towards the other end of the giant sectional and ignores him.

“You’re going to clean this up before naptime,” he tells him as if he expects Changkyun to actually listen. Maybe, if he’s  _ that _ much of a menace, they’ll let him  _ go _ . Hoseok will see how annoying he is and not want him and hate him and he’ll be kicked out. That’s his new plan, since he’s not strong enough to overpower him and doesn’t fully know the layout of how everything works just yet. 

He knows that everything is locked up. He’d pulled at one drawer before Hoseok had carried him out of the kitchen but he suspects they’re all locked. The doors don’t lock, either. And the elevator probably only works with a key. And with all his squirming over Hoseok’s lap, he hasn’t felt any keys, and he isn’t wearing keychains or necklaces. Maybe the keys are locked up, too.

It’s beyond a safety measure, he thinks. But good for them. Sucks for him.

“Changkyun, we have twenty minutes until you need to go down for your nap. It’s time to pick up your crayons and put them back into your case, please.”

Changkyun has gotten good at ignoring people in his life. It’s what he does best. But this doesn’t go well with Hoseok and he makes a point of always giving him three tries before going to reprimand him.

“Hyung asked you to pick up your crayons and put them away. Are you going to listen?”

Changkyun scribbles on the paper with a red crayon, the only one he hasn’t broken or thrown just yet. 

“Changkyun, this is the last time I will ask you to pick up your crayons and put them away.”

He continues scribbling, hair on the back of his neck standing up straight when Hoseok comes over to him now. He taps his shoulder.

“I’m giving you another chance now, in case you were too focused on what you’re doing. Changkyunnie, Hyung asked you to pick up your crayons and pu”--

“Fuck off.”

“So you did hear me and you’ve been ignoring me. Okay. And even after our talk this morning about the language, you ‘re still actively choosing to swear.”

Changkyun doesn’t like when he starts to lecture, because his voice sounds harsh and critical and  _ authoritative _ , like he  _ knows _ better, like he  _ is _ better than Changkyun. He hates it. It’s like having a crappy manager loom over your shoulder your entire shift, and it makes his armpits feel sweaty.

“What should we do about this?” He asks as if it’s a real issue in which Changkyun will weigh in on. “I don’t think the time outs are working, do you?”

He doesn’t think he can roll his eyes any harder.

“Do you think talking will help? Clearly, you have some emotions you’re having trouble working through. Would you like Hyung to help you work through those with one of your charts?”

Changkyun gags. The charts are colorful things that Hoseok had shared with him this morning, with different colors for the different emotions. He had refused to point any out and work with him this morning. He thinks the hitting and yelling is getting him far enough.

“I think,” Hoseok begins, “that maybe if you give the chart a try, you might like it. Is it hard to use? Is that it?”

Changkyun goes back to scribbling on paper. 

“Are you embarrassed to admit to Hyung that it might be confusing? Or that emotions might be scary to process? You’re not alone in this, Changkyunnie.”

He rolls his eyes again. He doesn’t care how alone he is or isn’t. He’s not sitting on the floor with some man who forces him to act like a dumb baby.

“I think Changkyunnie likes to bury his feelings, is that right? And instead of bringing up painful, scary feelings or memories, he lashes out because he doesn’t know how to cope with those feelings. This is something we’re going to be working on a lot together. Whether you want to talk to me now or later”--

“I don't want to talk to you! Don’t you get it!? I hate your _damn_ _guts_!” Changkyun slams his hands down on the coffee table, the crayons shaking as he does so. The red one rolls off of the table where he’s thrown it down and he barely watches it. 

“I’ve asked you not to swear.”

“If you don’t like it, let me  _ go _ .”

“Oh, I see. Okay.”

Changkyun doesn’t like the tone of his caregiver’s voice, doesn’t like how he gives a slow nod, his lips slightly parted like he finally understands what’s going on.

“You think that if you act naughty, we’ll just get tired of you and let you go. Is that it? So, you’ve been acting out because you think I’ll just ‘give up on you’ and send you home. See, that’s the attitude that comes from a deep place of insecurity, Changkyunnie.”

“I’m not insecure but thank you for not minding your business.”

“Who gave up on you, hm?” Hoseok goes to brush his bangs back and Changkyun leans out of his reach. He doesn’t want to be touched. “That won’t happen here, Changkyun. You are loved here.”

Changkyun smacks his hand away when he goes to--touch him, reach for him or the crayon, maybe, he doesn’t  _ know _ \--smacks his hand away because he can, because he wants to. Because he  _ will _ be awful enough until they kick him out. He  _ will _ be obnoxious enough to succeed, he knows it. 

“And we talked about hitting too, didn’t we?”

His rage simmers just below his skin, prickling uncomfortably in the form of goosebumps. Hoseok’s voice sounds the same, and there’s no underlying tone to it. Just his usual. But he stands up and hooks his hands under Changkyun’s armpits and goes to pick him up.

“ _ No _ !”

“That’s enough. We don’t hit, we don’t spit or throw things and we don’t use dirty language like that. I think that since you insist on doing those things, we’ll have to have a feelings check later. After your punishment. Let’s go.”

“No!”

Changkyun is lifted around the middle again, and he goes to hit his caregiver in the face because it’s the only place that will do much damage. He thinks about hitting in the throat but he hesitates, wondering if that will kill him. Changkyun is  _ desperate _ to get out of here but he’s not a killer. And if he kills his caregiver, without knowing how to access the elevator, will he just be stuck there with his rotting corpse? How would that even work? Does Hoseok even report to someone regularly? The more he realizes he doesn’t know, the more he realizes he knows  _ nothing _ .

Changkyun kicks as he’s carried sideways, yelling when Hoseok carries him into the bathroom. He stops to catch his breath and Hoseok sits down on the closed toilet lid, pulling him into his lap. They struggle for power for a minute or so, Changkyun trying to pry himself off of Hoseok’s lap, and Hoseok caging his legs between his own to keep him seated. He has an arm around Changkyun’s waist, ignoring as Changkyun digs his nails into his wrist. His caregiver always wears long jeans and tight, thermal, long sleeve shirts. He realizes soon enough that it’s to stop biting and scratching. But they’re not turtlenecks . . .

Hoseok leans over and flicks on the faucet, grabbing something just as Changkyun’s digs his nails into his exposed shoulder. He presses his lips together but he doesn’t yell. He tries to draw blood as best he can. 

“Changkyun! You do  _ not _ scratch me!” He drops whatever it is in the sink, grabbing both of his hands now. “No. You do  _ not _ scratch.”

Changkyun spits on his face and watches with glee as his caregiver just sighs.

“How ironic,” is all he says. Changkyun frowns at that. What does he mean it’s ironic? What’s so ironic about being spit on? Is it something from his past maybe? An inside joke? He doesn’t care. He yelps when Hoseok grabs his jaw, forcing his mouth open just a bit, twisting him where he’s seated on his lap, legs locked down with his caregiver’s. He holds his face in a tight grip and Changkyun barely gets a word out before something is shoved into his mouth and he bites down, terrified.

Soap. It’s soap.

He gags and goes to spit it out, sputtering at the sudden intrusion, when something else is stuck in his mouth. Hoseok starts to scrub his mouth with a toothbrush, soap suds getting everywhere. He makes a point of scrubbing his tongue, but not too deep so he doesn’t gag or choke him, and the roof of his mouth, but not particularly his teeth. Changkyun  _ thrashes _ in his hold, screaming soapy, blubbering words from behind the toothbrush.

“If you want to say dirty things, I’m going to wash your mouth out. I asked you to stop many times, I offered you your charts twice, and we have talked more than enough. Habits are hard to break, I understand this--Changkyun, no,  _ sit _ ,” he plops him back down with his free arm, the one currently  _ not _ scrubbing his mouth full of soap, “Habits, like swearing, and the things you used to do outside in the world where you thought you were an adult are hard to suddenly break. I understand that. But you have been purposefully lashing out and being a danger to yourself and to me. I do not appreciate that. And you are going to be punished for it. From now on, if you want to swear the way you do, I’m going to wash your mouth out.”

Changkyun shakes his head back and forth, trying to pull away from the toothbrush, but Hoseok holds him by the chin, fingers smooshing his cheeks. 

“ _ Mmmph--mmm,”  _ Changkyun whines out, leaning back into Hoseok’s chest to get away, but he’s still swirling the toothbrush around in his mouth, creating suds that leak from his mouth. He tries to bite down on the toothbrush, but the pressing fingers on his jaw force him to open up again. He wants to tell him to stop, that he’ll stop swearing, that he’ll be  _ good _ , but he can’t. His mouth is actively being brushed, it’s full of terribly tasting soap, and he’s afraid he’ll swallow it or suddenly gag. He kicks his feet best he can and rams his head into Hoseok’s face unsuccessfully. 

He’s washing his mouth out. Changkyun has never had his mouth washed out before, in his life. He doesn’t even know anyone who ever  _ had  _ before. It’s shameful, and his face burns red with the humiliation of it all. His ass still stings but it’s a distant reminder. But he’s starting to sweat now, uncomfortably so, unable to get away. No matter how much he whines or yells or squirms or kicks or scratches at Hoseok’s hands, it’s like the man doesn’t register pain. He can’t get away. He is completely and utterly helpless.

And just like that, Changkyun cries.

He doesn’t sob or scream, it doesn’t come like a hammer swinging right into him and nor does he lose the resolve to keep fighting, but he cries. Tears make their way down his face and it’s just all too much for him. It’s too much. Hoseok is too much, too big, too strong, too tall, too  _ fast _ , too soft, too much. The soap in his mouth is too much, too bitter, too foamy, too thick, too slimy, spilling over the sides of his mouth and dribbling down his chin as he spits, mouth open to spit out the soap as he cries. He wipes quickly at his eyes and goes to wipe at his chin but Hoseok catches his hands and holds them. And it’s through this that he realizes that it doesn’t matter whether or not he has his old life back, he was never going to make it in either. This new life doesn’t suit him, his old life doesn’t either. He never stood a chance in this world. He was born to fail, miserably, was born to simply be maneuvered and molded by another’s hands. His fate was not up to him but had been shaped by society. For why else had he failed so much in the real world, only to be kicked into another world that was failing him so quickly, so readily?

He would never belong anywhere, never be able to achieve the life he knows he should have had. It was like that for so many people. And then they gave up. Had he given up, too?

“Changkyunnie,” Hoseok says so softly, with such pity, that Changkyun feels like a kid in the nurse’s office, warranting pity enough to be sent home without even a second glance. He sniffles and coughs, soap spraying as he does so, and Hoseok quickly pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth. 

“I’th gros’th,” Changkyun cries. He’s too afraid to spit now, knowing it would get everywhere and he’d probably be subject to another mouth washing. But it’s dripping everywhere and he can’t help it.

“I know. It is. Are we going to stop using dirty words now?”

Changkyun nods, if only ever to get the soap rinsed from his mouth. 

“Good boy. Are we going to stop the throwing, hitting and the screaming?”

Another nod.

“Good, Changkyunnie, very good. Let’s rinse your mouth out now, okay?”

He lets Changkyun up to spit into the sink and he spits until he feels his mouth go dry,  _ ptt _ ing the soap out of his mouth. Hoseok gets him a cup of water to rinse once, twice, thrice, before it’s taken away and he’s left just grimacing, tongue trying to get the taste out of his mouth like a cat that’s eaten something gross. He’s tired now, and feels weird, like he’s been defeated. 

“I could’ve swallowed that.”

“You could’ve and you would’ve been fine. I would never give you anything that would hurt you, or do anything that would harm you. Now, you’re going to go sit in time out for ten minutes in your bedroom and then you’re going to go down for your nap. And then, when you wake up, we’re going to work on our feelings chart.”

Changkyun can’t argue. He doesn’t even have it in him. He just nods, hoping he never has to deal with that again. Hoseok leads him to his bedroom, where he sits on a beanbag with his stuffed fox for company, and faces the corner. It makes him nervous to have his back to the man, to be unable to see anything or peer around, but everytime he turns his head Hoseok tells him to turn back around and that he’s safe. If it were another universe, another time, another  _ life _ , he would have appreciated the extra reassurance. He wonders just why he gets it sometimes, anyway.

When time out is over, he’s tired enough to  _ want _ a nap, and doesn’t fight when Hoseok changes him into clean pajamas for it. He isn’t sure why he needs to change out of his clothes but it might be a hygiene thing, or a routine thing. Pajamas to signify sleep time. Day clothes to signify awake time. He doesn’t know but he doesn’t fight it, just stays silent the entire time, even as Hoseok narrates what he’s doing as he does it. Which would be great for his anxiety if he hadn’t just had his mouth washed like a car wash.  _ Fuck it _ , he thinks as he’s changed into his pajamas, he’ll fight him over the pullup another time. Maybe when he wakes up. For now, he just wants to sulk in bed and sleep and lick his wounds before getting back up to try again. A part of him feels as if he’ll lose next round, too, but that’s okay. As long as he doesn’t give up. And he won’t, he thinks, as he drifts off to sleep, Hoseok turning on his white noise machine. 

It doesn’t take too long for him to drift off, Hoseok’s voice echoing around in his head, much too empty for his own comfort.  _ Who gave up on you?  _ Who gave up on you? He’s nearly asleep when he thinks of everyone who had, has, who will. 

The whole world has given up on him, hadn’t they? Isn’t that why he was there? Because  _ he _ was the only one who hadn’t given up on him? Or had he given up on himself when he’d clicked on the website? 

_ Who knows _ . And he wonders who cares, as his thoughts finally leave him alone to dream of his old life, one that he still seems normal, worthy and wanted. He hasn’t given up on  _ that _ just yet. 

  
  
  



	6. Candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changkyun feels funny today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw and cw for derealization, anxiety, talk of trauma, abuse, manipulation, hopelessness and gaslighting.

Changkyun has never had a birthday party. Changkyun doesn’t like smoke, except the kind he knows how to breathe in with his lungs. Changkyun likes blue on cakes, even though his favorite colors are white and purple and gold, often aligning with one another. He likes red, too. But blue is his favorite kind of frosting and he likes to stare at the cakes in the supermarket he’ll never buy for his birthday. Changkyun thinks the ones with flowers are pretty, too. He remembers having sugar roses one time at a class party for a friend. Changkyun remembers a lot of things.

He remembers summer days, hot and blissful. Sometimes, when he walks outside, he can feel as if the summer has something to offer him, as if hope is alive in the sky and there is nothing to worry about. And then he runs out of bus money. He likes how blue the sky is sometimes, and how his wristband leaves a funny tanline on his wrist. He remembers dreaming of summer in the dead of winter, curled up under his blanket with a space heater blasting. He remembers broken windows and construction glue and pillows. He remembers hot showers and thick socks, even in the summer. He remembers flannels, the kinds he’ll wear one a day off, when he can afford to breathe, and sleep, and worry on his own. Those are the things he remembers most.

He does not remember the taste of thick buttercream from the blue of the supermarket cake. He’s never had a birthday party, really. He thinks that maybe this dream could be one, if only the people had faces. Lacing hands together with sing-song expressions, with words mouthed too softly to be a ‘Happy Birthday’. With spirals scribbled on the walls, with triangles and circles and squares. It’s like a happy party, the kind he’s at, it’s like the images painted are something he’s seen before, and suddenly he remembers.

The graphics of a T shirt, the fun ones. That remind him of birthday parties at rec centers, the kinds he’s seen in movies, the kinds that people bring presents to with bows and pretty ribbons, in boxes and circles. The circles and squares. Candles on the cake drip wax onto the frosting below and they blow out and he breathes it in in the minute of a cigarette smoke and it keeps him going a little longer, a little more alert, a little less hungry, a little more peppy.

Changkyun doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t like it. It’s bad for you, and he knows that. And cigarettes don’t smell the way birthday candles do. And it doesn’t smell the way fire does while coating a waxy texture or the way he burns things he’ll lose. There is nothing symbolic for that, he thinks. Everything, technically, is symbolic. There is rebirth in fire, through ashes. There is rebirth through water, through baptism. There is rebirth through the earth, risen again. There is rebirth through the air, when the body breathes it in for the first time.

Changkyun doesn’t believe in being reborn, he thinks. He doesn’t think that he’s ever had that luxury to think that he could. There was never a chance of new life for him, never a chance to be born again, never a day  _ to _ be born again. And once when he’d had that chance . . . 

He hadn’t made it. He hadn’t made it so far. The chance had slipped right through his fingertips and he couldn’t hold onto it no matter how much he struggled, no matter how hard he gripped, cracking with the pressure of that grasp, crumbling beneath his fingertips. Changkyun has never known his own strength while simultaneously always knowing just how hard to squeeze until something broke. 

None of it feels as sad as he used to.

But he’s not sad anymore. He doesn’t cry to sad music because there is none, doesn’t wipe away stray tears at the TV because there isn’t one, doesn’t cry at night because he’s too ashamed to admit that he has feelings and those feelings are of hopelessness. Is that a luxury, too? To not cry? Or has he lost the luxury of being sad?

There is only anger here, now. Only fear that subsides into anxiety, that nibbles on the corners of all he has left. Memories, feelings, dignity, his own subconscious that leads him to dream of birthday parties and candles and birthday cakes with dye that stains his teeth blue. He smiles into the subconscious and it smiles back and he can see himself and it looks wrong. It looks bad. 

He looks luxurious.

And yet he never remembers when he wakes up. Just fragments and etchings that he thinks he can recall, sitting there, and staring into space. Blocking out the voice of his caregiver, the noise of his white noise machine, the twinkling of the mobile. He blocks out the feeling of the stuffed fox’s fur, Foxy, soft to the touch and bright orange like the flames that could symbolize his rebirth if he were a symbolic person, sentimental at all. He’s not. Hot orange, deep red, maroon, like the seasons of fall that sprinkle leaves around the yard of the parks he passes, stepping on them until they crunch beneath his feet. Most of them are dead already.

“Changkyunnie.”

Most of the leaves whisper his name and tickle his ears when they land in his hair. Much like a birthday party.

“Are you with me?”

The leaves are brighter in summer but better in the fall, right before their own fall, and their destruction. Was he like that, too?

“It’s alright, kitty cat.”

He looks down at his wrist, and the funny tanline is not there, anymore. It is not summer but spring, the wet season. The season of rebirth.

How fitting.

“Are we done?”

Changkyun shakes his head, coming back to his surroundings. He blinks. He’s sitting on the carpet with his charts again, like yesterday and the day before that, too. No wonder it feels so familiar. 

“Let Hyung know when you’re done, okay?” Hoseok gets up from the couch again. “Did you want your juice?”

Changkyun nods.

“Can we use our nice words?”

Changkyun stares at the toy xylophone in his hand. He doesn’t fully register Hoseok’s question, just stares at the xylophone. He squeezes it, hard as he can, but it doesn’t budge. It’s plastic though, not wood or metal. It’s a stupid toy where you press the buttons, bright lime green, ugly as can be, with all different colors. But they’re not in the rainbow order. Just random. The orange is next to the green which is next to the purple. He hates it.

With a small  _ crack _ ! It gives, and he pulls the piece off of the toy. He stares down at it for a moment, smiling to himself. He waits until Hoseok is back to throw the piece at him, aiming for his head. He dodges it in a swift move and stares down his new little.

“Changkyun. We do not throw--did you break that?”

“Accident,” he mumbles, staring up at the purple sippycup in his caregiver’s hands. Hoseok sets it down on the table and walks over to Changkyun.

“I don’t think that was an accident. Why did you throw the piece at me?”

“Mmm.”

“Changkyun. Do you need a time out?”

He laughs.

“I don’t see what’s so funny, little boy. Give me the toy, please. It needs to be fixed or replaced now.”

“No.”

“Give me the toy please,” Hoseok asks as calmly as he did the first time and it pisses Changkyun off. Why does he do this? Act so collected and patient? As if Changkyun won’t understand if he lashes out? Or as if he will like him more if he doesn’t?

“No.”

“Changkyun, please give me the toy. It’s broken and it could hurt your hands. You don’t want a cut, do you? You’d have to wear a plaster and that wouldn’t be any fun now would it?”

Hoseok reaches down to take the toy from Changkyun’s relaxed hands, but he tenses up and latches onto it, as if it’s any opportunity given to him in life. And he’s going to lose it, right again. It doesn’t make sense, none of it does. Why is he  _ here _ ?

“Changkyun. I’m not taking it from you as punishment. It’s broken and it’s dangerous.”

“No.”

“Changkyun, I’ll give you until the count of three. Do you understand? I’m going to count to three and I want you to give it to me by then.” Hoseok still has his hand on the toy, but his fingers are lax.

“One.”

Changkyun never did like math much.

“ _ Two _ . Changkyun, I better not get to three.”

He blows on Hoseok’s face.

“Three. That’s it, give it to me, please,” he says a little sternly now, but still much too calm and pries it out of Changkyun’s hands. How ironic. Isn’t that what he said at the beginning of the week? The irony?

“It’s time for lunch now, Changkyun. Come on. You have your apple juice and Hyung has your noodles for today. Come on, let’s go.”

Changkyun pushes himself up to stand. He feels a little funny today, after five days of this nonsense. But food does sound good and it might make him feel better. It’s just simple noodles and vegetables, but it’s still food. The juice is pretty good, at least. Even if he’s only allowed 8oz a day. He thinks it’s because of the sugar consumption, but he isn’t super sure. 

He gets juice with lunch if he asks nicely, only he never asks. Hoseok offers it and asks him to ask and then he asks and he gets the juice. It doesn’t make too much sense but he does like it and it is a nice change from room temperature distilled water.

Changkyun sits at the table in the dining area and Hoseok sits on his left, always. He thinks it’s because he’s left handed, but it could be a coincidence. Hoseok eats with him sometimes, during snack time, but most of the time for meals he feeds him. Changkyun doesn’t like it, and he spits out his food a lot, and meals turn into struggles which turn into fights. Changkyun has hit Hoseok all week, spit on him, dumped his juice on him. He crushed a dumpling and rubbed it into Hoseok’s hair yesterday which had led to him being buckled into his seat while Hoseok went to wipe it out with a wet rag. He’d laughed the whole time and then had to spend twenty whole minutes in time out, which was the longest time he’d ever spent there so far.

But it’s his sixth day with Hoseok now, and he gets juice at lunch time, so that’s about the highlight of his boring days. They work on his emotion charts in the mornings, after breakfast and getting him dressed and changed. He still wears pullups despite all the fights and kicking and taking his clothes off. He’s not very good at ripping the pullup off in rage, but if he’s run around half naked a couple times, that’s his glory to tell. The first time he’d done it Hoseok’s eyes had nearly popped out of his head and he’d yelled for the first time, instead of just using an escalated tone of voice. Changkyun had thought it hilarious until his bare ass got smacked red. Who knew being naked was such a crime here?

Changkyun sits at the table now, watching Hoseok gather just a bit of the noodles up so they don’t spill all over the place. He sips his juice and watches, knowing that Hoseok is waiting for him to open up.

“I wanna feed myself.”

“I don’t think you’re big enough to do that just yet. Come on, kitty cat.”

He doesn’t know why Hoseok calls him that but he doesn’t ask. He just slumps down in his seat and folds his arms. Since they want him to act like a child, he’ll do it if it warrants him points as being obnoxious as hell.

“I wanna do it myself. I can feed myself. I’m an  _ adult _ .”

“Changkyunnie,” Hoseok says matter of factly. “I said no.”

Changkyun blinks for a moment and sits up. Hoseok seems to take this as a positive note because he nods. He doesn’t show his emotions well, and doesn’t express any body language so he’s hard for Changkyun to read. But he’s sure that it’s just to keep him guessing. Or keep himself calm. Or to keep both of them calm.

Changkyun reaches over into the bowl as fast as he can and grabs a fistful of noodles, slippery and wet, and shoves them into his mouth. Hoseok’s lips part a bit in shock and he just pushes the bowl further away.

“Changkyun,  _ no _ . We don’t eat with our hands.”

“We ate apples today with our hands.”

“We don’t eat noodles with our hands, and it’s hot. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Changkyun chews the noodles as fast as he can. It’s hard to shove them into his mouth and it ends up all over his face, which annoys him. Now, Hoseok is going to grab a napkin or a hand towel and wipe his face clean and that often means being held in place while it happens. 

“Don’t do that again. Now open up and let me feed you.”

“No”--

Hoseok takes advantage of the moment and shoves a bit of the noodles into Changkyun’s mouth, covering his mouth with a hand.

“Swallow it, please. Don’t spit.”

Changkyun’s mouth being full of noodles does nothing to stop him from biting Hoseok. 

“ _ No _ , we don’t bite.”

Changkyun bites.

He coughs soon after, and Hoseok immediately removes his hand. Changkyun swallows some of the noodles and spits out the rest onto the table and Hoseok gives a side to side gesture of his head.

“Okay, let’s try that again. The noodles aren’t spicy and they’re not too hot. There’s no reason to spit them out.” Hoseok blows on the noodles as he goes to feed Changkyun again. “Open up, please. Come on, be a good boy for Hyung.”

Changkyun opens his mouth anyway, feeling stupid and vulnerable and childish. The noodles are pretty good, and he’s hungry, and he doesn’t want to waste any more food to prove a point. He’s had sleep for dinner before. He can’t sit here in his ‘new life’ and just be wasteful because it’s not his food, after all. Hoseok beams at him when he starts to chew and doesn’t spit any of it out.

“Good boy, Changkyunnie!”

He feeds Changkyun one piece of vegetable at a time so he doesn’t choke or have his mouth too full, and he eats most of them without a complaint. Hoseok praises him the whole time with a full smile, soft lips and straight teeth much too bright for Changkyun’s discomfort. Suddenly, he feels stupid, like he’s playing into their games, and he leans back and crosses his arms. Hoseok lays the chopsticks down gently.

“Are you done?”

Changkyun doesn’t say anything. He hates this man, with all the rage he can muster today and all the sadness he used to hold in his heart in the past.

“I think we need a minute. Do you want your juice?”

Changkyun eyes the sippy cup for a minute before nodding. Hoseok goes to hand him the cup before frowning. “Oh no, the lid isn’t on correctly. Let Hyung fix t--Changkyun!”

Changkyun rips the cup from him, and the juice spills all over him. Some of it gets up his nose and he coughs it out, gagging as it comes right back up his nose. He throws the cup onto the floor while he coughs and Hoseok grabs the wet hand towel he always has ready during mealtimes.

“Look at me, you’re okay. That wasn’t very pleasant, was it?” Hoseok frowns sadly, his eyebrows furrowing in pity. He wipes at Changkyun’s face with the wet towel, and Changkyun tries to wiggle away. “Stay still, please. Stay st--it’s all over your shirt. Okay. I think . . . we’ll get you into the bath a few hours early then, and Hyung will wash your clothes.”

“No.”

“That’s not up for discussion, Changkyunnie. You’re covered in food and juice and your clothes need to be washed.”

He’s not very attached to the peach set he has on right now, though it’s very soft. But he kicks at Hoseok when he goes to remove his shirt.

“No kicking. Did the five spankings you’ve had in the last three days not help you remember that? We don’t kick.”

Changkyun doesn’t  _ like _ bathtime. It’s gross, having someone else bathe him, and his first bathtime had been so bad he’d trashed the bathroom and had a meltdown and had to be held in the tub, soaking his caregiver’s clothes, just to get rinsed off enough to be barely dried off and changed for bed. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience but he’s only been bathed twice in the last five days, so it’s not ideal, either. He’s overdue for a bath. But he doesn’t want to. Even covered in food and sticky, sugary juice.

“I’m not going in a  _ bath _ .”

“Not a negotiation.”

“No, no, no, no”--

“Changkyunnie, it’s okay. It’s just a bath. I’ll be right there the whole time.”

“ _ Exactly _ !”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Hoseok tries to peel his sweater off again and Changkyun dives for the bowl to throw, but Hoseok grabs him, pulling him up and over his shoulder. Changkyun starts screaming but Hoseok just pats his butt.

“You’re fine, kitty cat. Stop it.”

Changkyun is very much  _ not fine _ . He’s not fine, far from it. He kicks, but he knows it does nothing. He goes to wrap an arm around Hoseok’s throat but it quickly put down once they reach the bathroom. He clings to the doorframe and Hoseok gentle rubs his back.

“I know. Bathtime is scary. But there’s nothing to be afraid of or embarrassed about. And if you’re very good, and let me wash you up, I’ll give you bubbles to play with. How about that?”

“No.”

“Changkyunnie. Is this going to be another fight? Hyung doesn’t want to have to hold you down again. Does that need to happen?”

Changkyun doesn’t  _ want _ it to happen. But it will happen if he doesn’t communicate and that’s the worst thing, really. Being held down and naked and washed by a stranger, by someone he hates, who is keeping him here and forcing him to be compliant? It’s the worst thing. It’s the worst. 

“If you’re really a big boy, you can show Hyung how you wash yourself and Hyung will help. But if you keep acting like that, you’re going to have to be held again. And I know you don’t want that.”

Changkyun huffs internally, and then externally, and shakes his head.

“No what? Can you use your words?”

Changkyun shakes his head again, and sighs. It’ll be another fight. And another and another and another. His entire life has been a fight. So isn’t this one just enough? Isn’t this what he has been doing his entire life? So, he should keep fighting  _ for _ his life, right? He should keep fighting?

“It’s alright, Changkyunnie. It’s okay.”

No, it’s not. But he has no say in that, he knows. The people tell him everynight in his dreams, when he blows out the candles, blows out the lights, blows out the hope. He doesn’t remember it all but he knows that he always blows them out in the end. And for why?    
  


He’s never had a birthday party before. So why else do lights flicker out, disappear, into the dark? Restart or rebirth or redirection? But he cannot see in the dark, and so maybe tat is why the people have no faces. But still, he does not know why there are people there anyway. He's never had a birthday party because he’s never had anyone to attend. 


	7. Espresso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoseok wakes up, takes a call and thinks about Changkyun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw here for talk of violence and biting

Hoseok has a plan. It’s a rough one and it might not go very well and maybe it’s an invasion of autonomy and privacy. He isn’t very happy about it. But it’s still a plan. 

His thoughts are quickly interrupted by the monotonous beep of the intercom and he goes to pick up the phone, wondering who is calling him at . . . 6:37AM. He doesn’t have much of an alarm clock. He leaves his phone in the bed with him, not near his head, and it vibrates maybe once or twice before he wakes up in a panic to shut if off so he doesn’t wake his little. And then the day begins. He only wakes up a half hour earlier than his little, just enough to make coffee, wash his face and down a banana or another piece of fruit in case breakfast goes horribly. It has usually been over the last ten days since Changkyun arrived.

He picks up the phone and zeros in on the video to see Hyungwon smiling back, looking just as tired as he does. His hair is a mess, so he must have just woken up as well. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You look great,” he snickers, and Hoseok nods. He knows his own hair is a mess, too.

“So do you.”

“Thank you. Can’t you tell the beauty sleep has paid off?”

“Like you get any sleep with those two around,” Hoseok smiles, “why are you calling so early? Are you all alright?”

“Peachy. I called to see how you and your new little are doing. I got him a welcome gift but I’ll probably send it up later. And I have to admit, I did call under the guise of asking you to consider a playdate, maybe. I think it would be good for them.”

“Uhhhhh,” Hoseok makes a noise before going to take a sip of his coffee through his reusable straw. “I’m not so sure. Not for the next couple weeks, at least.”

“Well, since I believe in the sociological introduction theory, I think integrating him into a population with other littles will definitely teach him how he should be acting and socializing but of course, I’m not pushing. If he’s not ready then he’s not ready. How  _ is _ he doing? How are  _ you _ doing?”

“Uh, well, to be honest, he’s not adjusting very well. He’s a cutie but he’s got a lot of emotional wounds we need to work on.”

“Mm, that can be hard. And you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah? So you don’t have, like, four shots of espresso in that coffee?”

“I think I have two,” Hoseok laughs and holds up his pink coffee cup, “but really, I’m okay. Why are you up so early?”

“Well, considering we have our littles on the same schedule, I thought I’d get my ass up and check in on you and then go cook breakfast. And I promised the boys chocolate milk since it’s a joyous occasion so I need to prepare myself for the sugar rush.”

“Chocolate milk in the morning, ouch. And what occasion is that?”

“Minnie has gone three days without biting someone.”

“Oh, congrats,” Hoseok knows how sarcastic they both must sound, but it really is a feat for him. “I’m sure you’re proud.”

“I am very proud, and so is everyone else who’s ever been bitten by him. What about Changkyun?”

“He’s not much of a biter, but he does bite. Scratches, kicks, hits, spits. He rubbed food in my hair twice.”

“That second time is on you,  _ you _ fell for whatever trick he was playing. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice”--

“Yeah, I know. But it was a few days ago. But yesterday, he  _ did _ try to shove a block in my mouth.” He smiles at the memory oddly, despite having to pull his little into timeout nearly right away and confiscate all the blocks. 

“So he’s creative.”

“He is. And so incredibly violent, which is why I don’t think it’s a good idea for a playdate just yet. Maybe in the next . . . two to three weeks. That’ll get us over the first month.”

“The first month is always the toughest,” Hyungwon gives a slow sigh. He’s been working there just as long as Hoseok has and he knows he gets it. And them being only a floor below them provides him of some community comfort. He’s played with Hyungwon’s two current littles before, only a week before Changkyun arrived. “I couldn’t even get Minnie to stop biting after two months.”

“Well, that's different. He’s just a natural born biter.”

“He bit the head off of a stuffed animal.”

“Wow, that’s . . . kind of impressive.”

“He might be part dog--Anyway, said puppy is now  _ awake  _ and  _ screaming _ , so I gotta go. Call you in two weeks?”

“Yep.”

The intercom videos cut off as Hyungwon hangs up and Hoseok downs the rest of his coffee before going to immediately wash the cup. The straw would be dangerous if Changkyun managed to get a hold of it. He puts it away and sees that it’s not 6:52AM. Changkyun would be waking up soon and then the battle to get dressed would begin. And that was only getting dressed. Their entire morning routine was exhausting but Hoseok truly didn’t mind. He really did care for Changkyun and wanted him to know that he was important and loved.

But what he had said on the call was true; Changkyun  _ was _ violent. He wasn’t anywhere near ready for a playdate. He would need to work through his emotions and heal some of his wounds before he could even think about socializing with another little. Hyungwon believes in the theory that littles, one introduced to other littles, would subconsciously pick up on their actions and start to act like them, regressing further. Hoseok doesn’t believe that. He knows that if he were to bring Changkyun to a playdate, he would not only have a meltdown, but probably hurt the other littles physically as well and he refuses to endanger any of them. He can take a beating from his own little but other littles shouldn’t have to, and can’t. 

It’s weird to think about how his little could be the cause of someone’s trauma, even just a small hint of it.

Changkyun was cute; with pretty, round eyes and a sweet, angry pout that reminded him of a little cat. Despite that, he could tell he  _ was _ a good person deep down, but he was incredibly stubborn. Hoseok has never had a little so stubborn, so violent, so  _ aggressive _ . Most of them usually had a meltdown after three days and began to give in if they weren’t there totally willingly. The ones who were there fully willing never really acted out much. But Changkyun has been here for ten days now, and is as aggressive as ever. He refuses to drug him to keep him subdued and so maybe he has only himself to blame. But Changkyun has a bold personality and he won’t try to deter that. It’s who he is. He won’t change it and he shouldn’t have to. There’s nothing wrong with a stubborn, angry little--stubborn people end up more successful in life, after all. But the violence and the fighting and the disobedience was a problem. 

But more so than that, he was unhappy currently, and that made Hoseok sad. He knew how hard it was to adjust to a new life but Changkyun was hurting, and he was trying to get to the root of that hurt. It wasn’t easy, but he was going to get there. And the next time he acted up would give him the chance to do so. 

From what he could tell, Changkyun must have been alone for a long time, by his independent streak and hard headed personality. He knew routinely, once he finally had his final breakdown, he might tell him about it a bit. Or he might not. He didn’t seem the type to talk about his hardships at all, even to people he trusted. And looking through his file and at his behavior, there weren’t too many people he trusted present in his life either. Hoseok was usually right when it came to littles and their lives, with some sort of wiggle room. He didn’t always hit the nail right on the head, but he could give a close enough guesstimate to make his littles uncomfortable with how much he knew about them. Did he know their personal lives? No, not truly, unless the social workers did some digging. But they didn’t know that and he wouldn’t  _ let _ them know that. As far as his littles know, he knows everything, and he won’t have them think otherwise.

Changkyun, while still a mystery he’s going to crack, is probably going to end up a middle, he can see  _ that _ much happening already. Of course, this is just another guess he’s calling. Once he’s definitely regressed though, he can work with him for a smaller, littler headspace, to work him down into accepting littlespace, too. Not that there was anything wrong with middles at all. He knows several, had had one before, and knows how loved they are and can be. It’s true that most people did desire littles but Hoseok doesn’t cater to those kind of picky, headstrong caregivers. He knows Hyungwon doesn’t either, and will often keep a little or middle for months longer than their intended care program just to make sure they like their new caregivers, too.

Of course, that would be difficult with Changkyun. Currently, they needed to work on getting through a day without a tantrum, destruction and a trashed kitchen. But until he got him into any kind of headspace, he would remain categorized as a little in his file and in their system. He would go potty on his own, wear the pull up, play with the ‘older’ toys if he played at all, walk on his own and communicate verbally with his words.

Hoseok marks down their 10th day on the calendar with the dot of a marker, flipping to the next month to look for Changkyun’s doctor and dental appointments. He had two more weeks until the month was over, and three until his appointments, and he’d need to work hard and fast to get Changkyun into a place where he  _ could _ get to the doctor’s appointment and have his teeth cleaned by a dentist. He doesn’t even want to think about how it’ll go if he has cavities. If he truly cannot handle it, he’ll need to be sedated again, and he doesn’t want that. He thinks about how that’s going to be a step backwards for their progress and how Changkyun could regress to old, violent behaviors and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Hoseok just wants his new little boy to be  _ safe _ .

He opens the door to the nursery, where Changkyun is still asleep. Thank goodness. He sleeps through the nights, which is amazing, in all honesty. But it’s most likely due to the emotional stress of his situation and being in a new environment. He’s worn out constantly, and he needs the sleep. He walks quietly over the carpet to the bed, where the railings are pulled up, and peers over the edge at Changkyun’s sleeping figure. He looks so peaceful, sleeping on his right side, the blanket kicked down to his legs and his stuffed fox somewhere pressed against the wall. He breathes silently, not making a noise, tummy rising and falling slowly. He can tell he’s still asleep and not faking it now. His face seems so soft like this, his hair brushed back against the pillow, bangs that usually frame his face revealing his whole face now. He’s pretty, and makes Hoseok want to kiss his face and tickle him, but he doesn’t. Changkyun isn’t ready for that yet.

But Hoseok is so, so excited for when he is. He’s ready for the giggles and the smiles and the laughter and Changkyun’s _happiness_. He’s ready for it, even if Changkyun isn’t, and he’ll wait for as long as he needs to until he’s there. 

  
  



	8. Remorse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changkyun gets punished and finally starts to feel the hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw and cw for non-consensual spanking, physical assault (the spanking), punishment, gaslighting, severe manipulation, talk of hurt and guilt, fear of abandonment, talk of self love and self doubt, questioning yourself, questioning self love, trauma bonding, abuse, mental abuse, emotional manipulation, deflection, pee denial (very small) 
> 
> This is a heavy chapter please proceed with caution and check in with your feelings. If anyone needs anything please feel free to reach out to me or others, and put your mental health first

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Changkyun lies over his caregiver’s lap, tucked safely into his side, unhappy about this new position to keep him from seeing anything. He’s propped up by Hoseok’s knees, keeping his legs spread, and his arm securing his waist. He can kick his right leg freely since it’s not sandwiched between Hoseok’s legs but he doesn’t connect with anything when he kicks. It’s too much.

This is undoubtedly the longest spanking he’s had in his eleven—no twelve, it’s twelve days here. And he thinks it’s the hardest. Hoseok has a sharp hand and Changkyun has _seen_ his biceps. He could probably spank him for hours if he so wished, and leave Changkyun a begging mess, and he’s not sure if that’s what’s happening right now. He doesn’t think the man would torture him, no. It couldn’t be that. Not this man who rocks him to sleep for his nap, who holds him whenever he tries to bite, who gives him juice and smiles and laughs even when he’s angry. He’s not the type for torture. Hoseok is soft—he can tell. He’s just also a no-nonsense person with very little patience for spitting.

But it _seems_ like torture, with how relentless he’s been for the duration of the time Changkyun has been kicking over his lap, elbowing him in the back with little remorse. His right hand stays intertwined with Hoseok’s, trapped against his side. He takes note of how he doesn’t just restrain him by the wrists, but holds his hands whenever he wants to keep him restrained. It’s creative to say the least. And feels like less of a restraining position and more of a…security. But it’s still restraint and Changkyun is still over his knee with heat growing in his ass and no hopes of getting free anytime soon. 

He exhales a small whine, barely audible, growling deep in his throat when he tries to roll to one side. But Hoseok has him down tight and doesn’t let up. It’s not one of his slow spankings with a lecture. It’s fast and it stings and he’s barely talking now. 

“Lemme up,” Changkyun tried not to sound affected as he kicks a leg, “stop.”

“No, Changkyunnie. You don’t decide when your punishment is over.” 

Changkyun could scream in frustration but he’s trying to act stoic. Especially when Hoseok starts to slap the same spot on the soft curve of his ass over and over and _over again_ , as if he's drying to drill something into Changkyun. He presses his feet into the floor to try and push up but it doesn’t work too well with his fuzzy purple socks on, and he would just end up slipping further if it weren’t for Hoseok’s tight hold on him. 

He continues to spank the same spot and Changkyun kicks even harder now, demands he stop harder now, shimmies himself around harder now.

“Stop!”

“No, Changkyunnie.” Hoseok’s voice is much too calm and gracefully peaceful for someone currently whacking the shit out of him. “You’ll be done when Hyung decides you’ve learned your lesson.”

What lesson, he wants to scream. But he knows he’s here because he gave Hoseok such a difficult time this morning, and hit him in the head again. If Changkyun weren’t a _hostage_ maybe he’d feel bad for the guy. 

Changkyun groans, just to show his displeasure. He wants to ask him to at least hit someplace _else_ but then he would look weak. And Changkyun isn’t _weak_ . A spanking can’t hurt him. He’s an _adult._

Though, it stings really fucking bad. _So_ fucking bad. It’s continuous _slapping_ , so of course it stings. But people don’t see spankings as _slaps_ and _smacks_ but just spankings and spankings are childish and humiliating and embarrassing and he’s not a child so he can’t let them know that it _hurts._ Or that he’s at his _limit._ Otherwise, he’ll look weak. Otherwise he _is_ weak. He can take pain. Even if he needs to squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth together and jerk around like a dying fish. 

“Stop, stop”—

“No, Changkyunnie.”

“I have to pee”—

“No you don’t. You went potty before breakfast. I don’t like lying, Changkyun.”

“Let me _up! Stop!”_

Hoseok continues spanking him, just as hard as before. “No. Hyung is going to spank you until you’ve learned your lesson. Clearly, you haven’t.”

“How do you, how do you know that?” He asks in between breaths.

“I just do.”

“That makes no _sense!”_

“That right there is how I know,” Hoseok switches sides now and sure enough, favors the slap-the-same-spot technique. Of course, why would he change it when it seems to be working? 

“No you _don’t!”_

“Then where’s my apology? All I’m getting is your angry yelling. My kitty cat is so angry, isn’t he?”

Fine, he wants to scream. Take your apology and shove it. But he doesn’t, because Hoseok slaps the sore, stinging parts of his sit spots again and he bites down on his bottom lip. 

“I’m _sorry_!”

“That’s very nice, Changkyun. But that’s not an apology, and you’re not ready to apologize yet.” 

Changkyun suspects what he’s looking for. His body is tense and flighty and he’s yelling and angry. Once the fight leaves his body and he’s too tired to be kicking and screaming, maybe then his lesson will be considered learned. Hoseok is literally planning on spanking the fight out of him today. And how horrible will that be? 

“I’m sor”—

“No, Changkyun, you’re not. You’re not sorry. Because you do the same things over and over _and over again,”_ Hoseok emphasizes with each smack to his poor, hot bottom, “you don’t listen, you don’t _try_ to, you don’t put any effort into accepting your new life and your own limits. You bite, scratch, spit and kick, you break your toys, you take off your pull-up, you _lie_ , you swear, you throw temper tantrums, you don’t communicate, you spit out and waste your food and you fight me. And you do these things every single day, over and over and over again,” more slaps in rhythm, more close fingered smacks, that _ache_ now, “and you do whatever you please. That’s not how it works in _our_ home.”

“S’not my home.”

“Yes it is, Changkyun. This is your home now. I _know_ your new home is scary,” Hoseok gives his bottom a quick rub now, but he’s not rubbing out the sting, just a quick check, a quick break, he thinks, before he’s back to spanking soundly, right through his lecture. “It’s so new and it’s so scary and it all happened so so fast, Hyung knows. And Changkyunnie has never _had_ anyone willing to correct his behavior and point out all his misbehavior and communicate with him, has he?” 

Changkyun lets out an angry snarl. How _dare he_ go there!? How _dare_ he assume that? What the _fuck_ is he even suggesting? That Changkyun is a feral animal with no manners? Sure, he acts like it, so they will get rid of them, kick him out, let him _go._ But it’s not like he _enjoys it._ Only sometimes. 

“And I think Changkyunnie is scared to accept his new life because that means saying goodbye to his old one and if he does that he thinks he’s giving up on his old life. And he probably feels like a failure, like he didn’t try hard enough”—

“No!” Changkyun kicks, trying to wrench his hand free of Hoseok’s grasp. “ _Stop_ it! It _hurts!”_

“What hurts, little one? Hyung’s words or the spanking?”

“You _hitting me_!”

“I’m not hitting you, I’m disciplining you, clearly something you’re in desperate need of.” Hoseok gives him another quick rub before starting again. “I don’t know if anyone’s ever disciplined you, kitty cat. Maybe they thought they did and they hurt you instead. But Hyung isn’t hurting you, and he won’t ever hurt you.”

“Yes you _are_!”

“Your bottom will heal,” Hoseo starts, “but that big empty hole you feel won’t unless you start communicating. You’re here because you asked to be here, Changky”—

“I didn’t! I didn’t, I didn’t, I _didn’t ask to be here!”_ Changkyun _screams_ it so loud he can feel the blood vessels in his head threaten to explode, to splatter all over the walls, red in his fury. “I just wanted to _know_!”

“Exactly. You signed up and you wanted information. That’s still wanting to be here, kitty cat.”

“No it’s _not—_ don’t call me that!”

“If you don’t like being called kitty cat, I won’t call you that. But whether you like it or not you’re here and I think you’re here because you really need it. You’re scared and you’re angry and you’re _hurt_ , Changkyun.”

“ _You’re_ hurting me!”

“Maybe I’m bringing out all that hurt. I think this is more than a spanking. I think Changkyunnie is hurt deep down, inside, and he doesn’t want anyone to know because he’s afraid he’ll be seen as weak, won’t he? You’ve spent your entire life not relying on others, haven’t you? You’ve spent your whole life alone and scared but working your way through it on your own and you feel like if you were to seek guidance, then you’re admitting you need help. And by admitting that, you think that’s giving up or giving in and that it’s bad when it’s not. It’s normal to want guidance, and to want someone to care for you and care about you, and to love you.” 

Changkyun rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know why he bothers with this man. It’s clearly all mind games and the more he responds, the more he gives in to what Hoseok wants, gives in to his mind games. Nevermind that it’s _too much_ and just a bit triggering. It’s hurtful and painful inside and out. But those are his wounds to heal from any way he chooses. Other people don’t just decide they get to _heal you_. That’s insulting.

“I’m _not_ your _project_!”

Hoseok spanks him a few times more, before another rub. His ass _aches_ now, and he’s sure he’ll bruise if he keeps this up. His spanks always start up again with a few telling pats. “No, Changkyun, you’re not my project because you’re not _a_ project. You’re a human being who deserves love and a warm place to call home and a bed to sleep in and food on the table.” 

“This isn’t”—

“Yes it is, whether you like it or not. You have a new shot at life. Why won’t you take it? It’s scary and it hurts but I’m _right here_ , Changkyun. I’m not going to leave you. Not like all the others. I’m not like all the others who promised to love you, sweetie.”

Well that fucking _stings_ . Not his ass but his feelings, and his heart maybe. His tummy twists, and the spanks are starting to become _numb_ and it _hurts_ too much and suddenly he’s thinking about _them_ and he can’t _take it anymore_. 

“Hyung? Hyung, please. Please stop—please, please I’ll be good,” he doesn’t _beg,_ Changkyun doesn’t _beg._ And he feels utterly humiliating, blinking back tears and sniffling just to keep his nose dry. Who can blame him? He’s had his face smooshed against the couch for the last half hour or so. Of course he’s sniffly. And he needs it to just _end._ “I’m _sorry_.”

Hoseok doesn’t stop, right away at least. He gives Changkyun’s bottom a few last slaps before stopping, rubbing a hand over the burning flesh before fully stopping. It’s over now, he thinks. Unless Hoseok is a sadist and wants to start again. He won’t be able to stop him if he does. 

“I don’t think you are, Changkyun, but that’s okay,” Hoseok rubs a hand down his back, not making any move to let him up yet. “You’ve never had anyone to _teach you_ to be sorry, and that’s okay. They’ve only hurt you, didn’t they?”

He doesn’t know if Hoseok knows. How could he know? Why _would_ he know? But either way, he knows _something_ and that’s clearly _enough._

“They hurt you and you _felt_ sorry and that’s not an apology and that’s not remorse. You feel as sorry as you want when you’re over my knee, but you will _be_ sorry after when you’ve reflected. That’s what timeouts are for, that’s what your emotion charts are for, that’s what _I’m here_ _for_. To help you get through that and do better everyday.”

Changkyun tugs his hand from Hoseok’s grip and he lets go, and Changkyun goes to wipe his eyes. 

“I’m _never_ going to hurt you or abandon you, Changkyunnie. I know that might not be what you’re asking for right now and you might not think it’s what you need to hear but it’s so important you learn that. You’re never going to be too much for anyone anymore, you never _were_ too much to begin with. So it’s high time you stop acting out because you think we’ll just get rid of you. You are _loved_ here, Changkyun. Why won’t you let yourself be loved?”

Changkyun squirms a little now and he can feel some slight pressure in his bladder. It’s enough that he probably needs to go and can avoid this awful conversation. 

“You should let yourself be loved. Hyung knows it might be hard for you to love yourself but we’ll work on it.”

He doesn’t care if he’s deserving of love. It’s not what he’s asked for. It never _was_ what he asked for. Changkyun stays quiet for a minute, the burning pain radiating through his ass with pins and needles. He wonders if Hoseok’s hand hurts. How would it _not?_

“Hyung?” He’s never called him anything before today but he murmurs it now, and Hoseok reaches over to tuck his bangs behind his ears. 

“Yes, Changkyunnie?”

“I really do have to, um, go.”

“Go where?”

“Bathroom.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the potty and then after you’re going to sit at the table for time out and write me a proper apology. Understand?”

“I”—Changkyun doesn’t want to sit on his inflamed, swollen ass, but he thinks if he complains, he might get his punishment kicked up a notch so he just nods. 

Hoseok goes to pull up his pull-up and he yelps, pushing his hands away, still tucked up under his arm. “Ow!”

“You’re fine. Would you like to pull up your pants by yourself?”

“Yeah,” Changkyun’s mouth feels dry but sure enough, Hoseok lets go of him with a small pat of his back and Changkyun slides down to his knees and tugs the pull-up up, hissing as it scrapes against the deep burn of his butt. 

“Do you want to wear your pants today?” Hoseok asks, watching him tug his pants up too. Changkyun pretends not to be thinking about it but he’s not running around in just a pull-up. He thinks that’s part of Hoseok’s games. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay then. Let’s go potty and then we can finish your punishment. And when you’re all done with your letter, you can play with your crayons.”

Changkyun makes no note in telling him that coloring isn’t ‘playing with crayons’ because he doesn’t care. That’s not in his nature to care. Changkyun tells himself he doesn’t care about anything or anyone other than himself. _They_ had made sure of that when they’d taught him that he didn’t matter. And maybe he doesn’t and maybe he does and he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. All he knows is that right now, he is being told he matters, while he is the only one he cares about. It should be a win-win. But it’s not. 


	9. Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changkyun thinks he realizes just who is to blame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw and cw for manipulation, gaslighting, heavy victim blaming, deflection, projection (slightly), jealousy, self blame (heavy) anxiety, and trauma bonding 
> 
> This chapter is also heavy as well, please proceed with caution and put your mental health first. I am always here if anyone needs to reach out

It hurts to sit  _ so _ bad.

Changkyun has trouble focusing on his letter because his ass is nearly numb from the spanking, but stinging at the same time, and he hates it. He wants to point out there might be permanent damage but he knows it’s just him being dramatic. There’s no damage. Hoseok hasn’t hurt him  _ so _ far, and so he thinks there won’t be any damage to come to him. Unless he tries to kill him or something. Why does his mind always wander off to murder?

He stares at the marker he’s currently using to write his apology letter, one full of things he knows Hoseok wants him to write and things he doesn’t really mean. He’s  _ not _ sorry, like Hoseok said. He’s just  _ sad _ . And angry. And hurt. The feelings check hadn’t been so pleasant and he had told Hoseok that he just feels  _ tired _ . It’s true. But now he’s drinking his water and writing a letter and trying to make it neat and organized for Hoseok to read and he hates it. He hates that he owes this man an apology and how he’s not sorry for it but he feels  _ kinda _ bad for being such a nuisance. It’s not easy for him to just  _ be _ obnoxious. But he does it anyway because, well . . . he really had been expecting them to kick him out. But now that he knows it’s not a possibility . . .

He sighs.

He stares at the blue marker, blowing it to dry, and shrugs. He thinks he’s done now. He folds the letter up, finger smudging the marker as he folds it, and he groans out loud and lays his head down. Now he has to do it  _ all over _ again. This was already his  _ fifth draft _ .

“What’s the matter? Why is our head down?”

Again with the we, our, us, statements. 

“I  _ finished _ and then I--it’s, it got smudged,” he unfolds the letter to show Hoseok, who’s standing over his shoulder now. “It got ruined.”

“It was an accident, it’s okay. Were you trying to fold it?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s okay. Thank you for putting so much thought into it.” Hoseok smiles, taking a seat at the table across from him now. “Would you like to read it to Hyung?”

“Uh,” Changkyun stammers for a minute. “I thought, I thought  _ you _ were going to read it. On your own.”

“I will, after. I’ll be keeping it. But I would like you to read it to me since you wrote it.” Hoseok folds his hands together on the table and waits for him. Changkyun can feel that irritation rising from underneath his skin again but he rubs it away. His ass is much too sore to handle another spanking, or time out. Sitting on hardwood is not what he wants right now.

“I . . .”

“It’s okay, Changkyunnie, it’s just me here. Take as long as you’d like.”

Changkyun nods. He doesn’t need to seem any more childish, so he’ll handle this properly. Like an adult. He holds up the letter and unfolds it, laying it down on the table and hiding his hands underneath just in case he starts to shake. It’s not that he’s  _ scared _ , he’s not. He shakes when he’s mad.

“Okay, uh . . . ‘Dear Hyung’,” he starts, letting out a tiny chuckle to regulate his shaky breath. This is  _ so stupid _ . “ ‘Over the last two weeks, I have not treated you fairly. I have, um, I have hit you and bitten you and food-- _ thrown _ food at you and sweared when you specifically asked me not to. That is wrong of me. I’m also sorry for--for scratching you, too. I promise to work on my behavior and to not do these things anymore. Signed, Changkyun.’”

“Mm. That’s a very nice apology, Changkyunnie. Thank you.”

Well, you made me write it, he wants to point out. 

“I forgive you.”

He didn’t realize that forgiveness was even a bargain on the table here. 

“And now, I want you to write a letter to yourself so you can learn to forgive yourself for all of these things. I’ll help you with it if you need.”

Changkyun looks at him for a moment and blinks. If he’d known the littles program would require this weird, twisted therapy session, he would’ve just gone to a bar instead. “I--I don’t”--

“I know that look on your face. And  _ yes _ , Changkyunnie, you have things you need to forgive yourself for. First off, starting with your behavior as of late. Apologies should have remorse but you shouldn’t beat yourself up afterwards. How else will you learn from your mistakes?”

If he had wanted motivational advice, he would’ve asked for it. But nonetheless, Hoseok is always full of weird lessons he’s trying to drill into his head.

“I don’t have anything,” he realizes that this sentence might contradict their entire ‘lesson’ here so he adds, “I think.”

“I think you do. So, I want you to think about it and write yourself a letter.”

Changkyun goes to finish the rest of his water. He’s been drinking more so he can get up and pee more often, so he doesn’t need to sit on his burning ass all day. “Are you going to read it?”

“I want you to read it to me so that we can work through it together with a feelings check. But I won’t read it behind your back.”

Changkyun nods. “Can I have more water? Please?” He nearly forgets his ‘nice words’.

“Yes, thank you for asking so nicely. Start on your letter now.”

Changkyun grabs another sheet of paper and market and starts to make a list of things he could forgive himself for here. For one, it’s even  _ thinking _ about the stupid program, and getting caught, for not running faster or being more violent with the social workers that had brought him in. It could also be for allowing himself to be fired once, even though the job sucked and the manager was even worse. But that’s not pertaining to today’s events. Well, it  _ could _ . If he hadn’t been fired, he could’ve found a nicer job, and worked a better job, and made more money and been less miserable. Then he wouldn’t be here.

Fuck, he wouldn’t be here. Fuck. It was his fault. It was  _ all _ his fault that he was here. He has no one to blame but himself . . . all this time . . . he’s been blaming Hoseok, the social workers, whoever ran this program. But no. They’d been here for years without affecting his life and he’s never known about it. But now, he’s here, trapped,  _ stuck _ , because  _ he _ didn’t make the right choices. And he’d allowed himself to stay miserable, to not rise above and just . . . pull himself up by his bootstraps, right?

He’s gaslighting himself, he thinks. Or victim blaming. He’s not sure which one he is.

But it punches him in the gut. All of the things he could’ve changed and  _ should’ve _ changed. If he weren’t so busy being stuck in his misery.

“Here’s your water, and the lid is secure. Sip away.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles, staring at his paper in shame. He doesn’t want to look up at Hoseok, his  _ stupid caregiver,  _ a man working a better, more meaningful job than he ever had. A man who took better care of himself than he ever could, and he cared for  _ other people _ like he never  _ had _ . All because he was too miserable and too impatient to finish anything he’d started, hopped around from job to job, place to place. What if he had just . . . stuck it out? Sucked it up? Done more? Slept less, worked harder? Would he be here right now?

“I have to go po--pee, I have to pee,” he says in a voice that warrants a cough soon after. Hoseok goes to take him by the arm and he jumps up and scurries off to the bathroom. “Sorry, s’emergency,”

He doesn’t care how much of a lie it is and how Hoseok can probably hear him in the bathroom currently  _ not _ peeing, but he doesn’t care right now. He takes a seat on the lid and wallows in the same self pity he always has, and brushes the next round of tears out of his eyes silently. It’s all his fault. He can beat on Hoseok all he wants but it won’t change the fact that Changkyun has spent so much time searching for happiness instead of remembering to hold on to what he had.

And now he’s lost it.

All because he was just never happy enough.

And it sucks. It fucking sucks. He was never happy in relationships, always keeping up those walls that drove people away, never happy in his jobs because the same thing over and over again was frying his brain, never happy living in places because it would never be cheaper, or nicer, or brighter. He was just . . . never happy. How  _ could _ that be his fault?

Because, he tells himself, you shouldn’t have to be  _ happy _ to live a life. You should’ve worked harder, should’ve done more, should’ve graduated. He’s still young and he still had so much time to try but now he’ll  _ never _ get the chance to graduate. He’ll be just like everyone said he always was, and equate to nothing. He will have done  _ nothing _ with his life, flushing all his future down the toilet just because he wasn’t happy with his present. And everyone he had known had stuck it out, hated those four years of school or hated those temp jobs or even hated themselves, but they had carried on.

So why couldn’t he? Why didn’t he? He can shut off his emotions here, like a robot, and do what he needs to do. So why couldn’t he do that in his life outside before? Why didn’t he do more for his future to end up here? Maybe Hoseok’s right. It’s because he’s never had guidance and looked for it in all the wrong places. Never had discipline because he always tried to nail perfectionism instead of learning and growing from his own mistakes. Oh god, Hoseok is  _ right _ .

And it’s _all_ _his_ _fault_.

“Changkyunnie?” Speak of the devil. “Are you alright?”

Changkyun wants to answer and he should. “Ye”--

“I’m coming in.”

“No!” Changkyun doesn’t even get to yell loud enough before Hoseok pops his head in and looks him up and down, face softening. Changkyun quickly rubs at his eyes and Hoseok comes into the bathroom, squatting down in front of where he sits.

“Changkyunnie,”

Changkyun wants to break down at the sudden change in atmosphere, at how  _ sad _ Hoseok looks and how  _ sad _ he feels and how  _ sad _ it all is. It’s typical. Hadn’t he learned about a lesson much too late from all his storybooks as a child? And yet, here he sits, stuck, because he’d never been one to learn.

“Do we need a break from the letters?”

Changkyun nods, unable to look up at his caregiver, staring down at the blue tile floor. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Hoseok pulls a tissue from the tissuebox and hands it over to him, and he takes it, doing nothing with it. He can’t have Hoseok see him weak or childish. He’s already  _ right enough _ . 

“You have nothing to apologize for. To me, at least,” he grabs another tissue and holds it to Changkyun’s nose, “blow for me.”

Changkyun grimaces and leans back but Hoseok just pinches his nose, so he blows. 

“What does Changkyunnie think he has to be sorry for?”

Changkyun shakes his head and wipes more of his tears away with the tissue. What do you know? It’s actually softer than using the back of his hand. He’s never really used tissues for crying before. It seemed like an expensive luxury. It seems his new life has so much to teach him. 

“You don’t want to say? Or you don’t know?”

Changkyun shrugs and Hoseok just nods.

“That’s okay. It can be a very big thing to feel what you’re feeling and even bigger to process all of those emotions. But you’re not alone, and it’s so so important that you know whatever you’re feeling is valid. But it doesn’t mean it should change what you  _ know _ .”

Changkyun doesn’t understand what that means, but he’s not in the mood to talk, so he just shrugs again.

“You might feel like something is your fault. And that’s okay. But you should  _ know _ that whatever it is isn’t. You should  _ know _ that you do deserve love and kindness and goodness in your life. You should  _ know _ how smart and how brave you are. And how cute,” Hoseok goes to pinch his cheek and he shoves his hand away with little resistance. “My Changkyunnie is so brave for letting himself feel all of these emotions today. Not very many people let themselves feel the way they feel or cope with those emotions in a healthy way. But you’re not alone, I’m right here.”

And that’s the scary part, he thinks. That he’s  _ not _ alone throughout all this. That Hoseok is here, that he’s never truly alone. Not even to piss, it seems. But oddly enough, throughout everything that  _ was _ his fault, this was the scariest. That  _ this _ , this validation, not being alone, being cared for emotionally and financially,  _ that _ was the thing he’d been looking for all along.

And he’d gotten it, after all. And he only had himself to blame. 

_ Careful what you wish for  _ he thinks.

  
  



	10. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changkyun doesn’t want to talk about his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw and cw for gaslighting, manipulation, self blame, victim blaming, talk of triggers and squicks, being triggered, anxiety, talk of trauma, trauma, talk of abuse, talk of fear of rejection, talk of hyper awareness and hypersensitivity, talk of “everyone suffers” mentality, downplaying ones’ own emotions, self gaslighting, toxicity, unhealthy relationships, and hurting others.

Changkyun thinks Hoseok might feel bad today. He’s not sure why he does since there’s no difference in the man’s demeanor. He’s still as smiley as ever when he wakes Changkyun up and praises him as usual, gentle as he narrates getting him up and changing him out of his pajamas. But instead of day clothes, he changes him into a fuzzy, soft onesie that Changkyun doesn’t really fight. It’s one of those pajamas that he knows is popular, that buttons up, and it’s warm and more comfortable than what he’s used to. Of course, most of his clothes here are more comfortable than what he’s used to, having worn cheap clothes manufactured to have wear and tear. His clothes now are nice but the fuzzy onesie is soft and has a hood and he can hide his face if he needs to. And when he pulls the hood up, he isn’t scolded for hiding his face. So, Hoseok probably feels bad for beating his ass to tears yesterday, that must be it. His butt is still really sore and it aches to sit but the padding of the onesie and the pullup help, as much as he hates the pullup. He doesn’t tell Hoseok that it hurts and he doesn’t say anything about all his squirming at the table. 

He uses the bathroom and eats breakfast without a fuss, and gets his sippy cup of water before being placed down onto the rug in the living room, his charts all laid out. He decides to lie on his tummy for better access, because it still hurts to sit, slightly. 

“Okay, Changkyunnie. We’re going to start with a feelings check today.”

Changkyun nods. He doesn’t really have any room in his heart for embarrassment today. He’d cried in front of Hoseok yesterday, and then spent the whole day working on his letter, coloring and playing blocks again (as long as he didn't shove them in his caregiver’s mouth). He’d let Hoseok hold him in his lap for a few seconds before shoving him away and so a feelings check isn’t the worst thing he could go through today. He was worn out and just wanted to get through this.

“First one,” Hoseok holds up a blue laminated sheet, with little Velcro tabs. “This morning I feel . . . do you want to pick out an emotion to put on the chart?”

Changkyun  _ doesn’t _ but he knows he  _ has  _ to, and he’s not risking any further punishment today. He just doesn’t have it in him to fight. Maybe tomorrow he’ll go back to kicking Hoseok’s ass but for right now, he just crawls on his hands and knees over to the laminated emotion cards, of bubble, colorful letters. The SAD card has a little cloud on it, the HAPPY one has a sun. The MAD one is bright red with pointy letters and the SLEEPY one is pale blue with a moon on it. There’s lots of emotions here; annoyed, unhappy, tired, hungry, sick, proud, embarrassed, bored, nervous, shy—the list went on and on. He stares at them and thinks for a moment before he realizes how he’s really feeling. He’s burnt out and worn down. But there isn’t a card for that and he’s not sure if he can ask to make one, so he just grabs the TIRED card, a soothing grey color with little stripes and hands it over to Hoseok.

“Let’s stick it on there, okay,” he sticks the card into the sheet of Velcro and holds it up. “Changkyunnie feels tired?”

He nods.

“Is Changkyunnie sleepy or just tired?”

Changkyun shrugs and goes to lie back down on his stomach. 

“I think a little bit of both. Yesterday was a really big day and we’re still feeling it today, aren’t we?”

The “we” statements still do him no good but he just shrugs as best as he can. 

“I think we are.”

Changkyun wants to roll his eyes again. He doesn’t want to sit through another therapy session with Hoseok. He doesn’t want to work on his stupid letter and he doesn’t want to sit here while Hoseok thinks he can “fix him”. He isn’t a project. But then of course, Hoseok’s works come rolling back straight into his mind that he isn’t a project at all. Because he’s a human. 

And what? Humanity can help him? He laughs at that.

Changkyun goes to grab his box of crayons from the table and Hoseok stops him.

“It’s not playtime right now. We’re going to finish our charts and then we can play.”

Changkyun huffs. He doesn’t want to talk about  _ feelings _ . He never has done well with that, in all honesty. And maybe that’s why he hadn’t been the healthiest to be with, sometimes. And that hurts. It stings worse than anything he can imagine, but everyone had the things they needed to work on. They were all only human after all. His feelings talks were usually ‘wow that sucks’ and a shrug of the shoulders, and then drowning his sorrows in whatever he could find. Chocolate milk, beer, sweet chips, sleep, watching too much TV to erase his feelings or confuse the ones he already had. Was he crying because he was sad? Or was he crying because his favorite character died? Was he crying because he had projected his own insecurities onto said character who had died? Did that trigger a memory?

He shrugs. It’s whatever. The point of the story is that he just didn’t  _ do _ feelings. They weren’t his thing. And he has a sneaking suspicion that Hoseok knows that. 

“I already told you how I feel.”

“Tired isn’t the only emotion you’re feeling nor is it the only one we’re going to work through.”

Changkyun grabs the crayons anyway.

“I don’t  _ want to _ ,”

“Sometimes, we don’t want to do things, but we have to do them in order to feel better.” Hoseok says it softly and leans forward from where he’s sitting on the couch. He holds out a hand. “Give me the crayons, please.”

“No,” he thinks this is his new favorite word. 

“Changkyun.”

“No, they’re mine,” he knows it's not about the crayons. Hoseok wants him to work through whatever ‘scars’ he has emotionally, whatever the fuck that means and Changkyun wants to just be left alone for once. He just wants to pull a blanket over his head and drown into his mattress and become one with the earth below. He doesn’t want to be here, or do this.

He doesn’t think he  _ can _ . There is just no capacity there anymore for him. He doesn’t want to remember or process or “ _ heal” _ , or whatever it is that Hoseok is trying to get him to do. He doesn’t know what’s in store for him but he doesn’t want whatever it is. He just wants to  _ forget _ . Forget everything.

But then he thinks about how much he had wanted that when he had visited the organization’s website and how it landed him here. 

“Yes, but it’s not time to color.”

“I don’t”--Changkyun presses his lips together so he doesn’t start yelling. He doesn’t want to admit to Hoseok that he can't deal with feelings right now. Or ever. He never  _ has _ had to process them. He would just take a deep breath and let the sorrow sit in the pit of his belly, burning the core of his existence until something else happened to him and then he’d focus on that hurt, so on and so forth. He’s never healed from his pain, just moved on to other things. And isn’t that life really? Isn’t that just part of the process of being an adult? To just move on and on because nothing lasts forever?

“Does Changkyunnie not want to or is he not able to fully handle talking about feelings right now?” Hoseok leans over from the couch and reaches for the OVERWHELMED card. He lifts an eyebrow and holds the card up to Changkyun. “Maybe, we’re also overwhelmed?”

Changkyun opens his box of crayons, not realizing how telling his silence is until he begins to open his mouth. 

“I’m just  _ tired _ .”

“Do you often hide your emotions behind other ones?” Hoseok asks and Changkyun glares at him. “Sometimes, we don’t want people to worry about us or we don’t want to admit that we’re hurt or upset or sad or even happy, so we just tell people things that can be an excuse and an explanation for how we’re behaving. Honesty can be scary. But there’s no reason to hide behind anything here.”

Another motivating speech! Changkyun blows his bangs out of his face and just reaches for a piece of paper. He’s so bored and his brain is rotting with how dull he feels all the time. Sure, his brain has been like that for a while. But being suddenly forced into being a little? He’ll  _ melt _ into a puddle at the boredom.

“Changkyun, would you like to color instead of discuss feelings?”

“Obviously,” he whispers.

“If you want to do that, you can ask.”

Changkyun isn’t one to entertain others, but he wants to point out for a minute how manipulative that sentence is. But if he comes across as accusatory, he might get a time out. So he holds up his crayon for a minute. “You just said no. And then you said to ask.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said it’s not playtime, and I can’t color. Now you’re telling me I can just ask.”

“I did. But I’m not telling you to ask because you didn’t ask me. I’m telling you from this point on, if you ever get too overwhelmed and need to switch tasks, we can do that. All you need to do is ask.”

Changkyun isn’t satisfied with that answer but he just sighs and turns to his paper.

“And what if I can’t ask?”

“I’ll know,” Hoseok says so gently that Changkyun might be tricked into thinking he understands him if he didn’t know any better. 

“I want to be left alone.”

“Okay. You can color for the next twenty minutes and I’ll leave you alone. And then after that”--

“ _ No _ . I want to be left  _ alone _ . Not just for a stupid time out.”

“You’re frustrated.”

“You think?” A sarcastic, biting reply that is rewarded with a small smile.

“I think you don’t want to be vulnerable with anyone. Not just me. Have you ever discussed your feelings with someone before? And maybe, if you did, they weren’t very nice. So it’s going to just continue to frustrate you further until you learn how to dissociate those hurt feelings from talking about feelings. And until that time comes, we won’t get very far without you getting frustrated and overwhelmed”--

“I  _ said _ to stop!” Changkyun doesn’t look up from the paper, raising his voice slightly. He knows that reacting means that Hoseok has the upper hand now. But he’s so sick of his voice.

“That being said, we’ll stop now. You can color for the next twenty minutes and then we can discuss how we’re feeling then.”

Changkyun picks up one of the cards and throws it. “I said no. No means no.”

“No does mean no. But you’re sitting here, aggravated, frustrated, and it’s my job to take care of you and I care  _ about _ you and I don’t want to see my little boy upset. So, we’ll take it step by step.”

Why can’t you just leave me alone! He wants to scream. But Hoseok gets up and starts to clean up the cards on the floor and the chart.

“Please hand me the card you threw, Changkyun.” Hoseok asks casually.

“ _ You _ pick it up.” He’s too irritated to pretend to be polite, or afraid of another spanking.

“Excuse me?”

Changkyun grits his teeth together to pretend that he’s not currently flinching inside. He hadn’t even meant to say it  _ that _ rudely. He sits there for a moment, frozen. He half expects Hoseok to take him by the arm or something, but it doesn’t come. He reminds himself that Hoseok isn’t cruel, as much as he’s manhandled him so far. He doesn’t need to be afraid of him. Yet he is. But luckily, Hoseok must feel bad, because he gives him a chance to redeem himself.

“I asked you to hand me the card you threw on the floor.”

Changkyun leans over the table and grabs it, handing it to Hoseok with one hand, eyes on the floor. Hoseok takes it from him knowingly, slowly, and nods.

“Thank you.”

Changkyun feels compelled to apologize, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t have to. Fuck Hoseok. He’s not here willingly and he can be as obnoxious as he wants. But then he sits back down and his ass hurts so he keeps his mouth shut, and just nods. 

“You’re a good boy, Changkyun. Don’t be afraid to act like it.”

“I don’t like you,” he says flatly. “You hit me.”

Hoseok puts the cards back into the folder and nods. “I  _ spank _ you, and I warn you plenty of times beforehand. And then you willingly disobey me, and then I choose to punish you because you choose to act naughty.”

“It’s still hitting. And it hurts.”

“It hurts me to have to do it.”

Changkyun laughs, and accidentally spits all over his paper. He keeps his eyes down, though.

“Why is that funny? You don’t believe me?”

“You’re . . .” full of shit, he wants to say. But he remembers how  _ hot _ his ass had burned the other day and shakes his head. “Hm.”

“We can discuss that later, if you want to. But you have nothing to be afraid of, Changkyun.”

He doesn’t look up and just starts to scribble on his paper, bored as hell, coloring circles on the plain paper. It’s good hand practice, he thinks. Maybe he’ll do a coloring sheet later, just to keep himself busy. Just to keep himself sane. But then Hoseok is bothering him again, by existing, putting the folder down and going back into the kitchen to load the dishwasher and Changkyun is left alone with his thoughts. Yuck.

He wasn’t afraid of Hoseok--well, no, he was. He was afraid one day the man would snap and just snap  _ him _ in half. Or he was afraid that the man would yell at him, berate him, maybe. Maybe he already was. And Changkyun couldn’t deal with that either. But why not? Didn’t he  _ want _ that out of him? Didn’t he expect that kind of reaction? 

Well, yes, obviously. He was expecting it. And yet it never came. He supposes that’s just his trauma, embarrassingly so, but everyone had that. Anyone who’d grown up with parents who slammed cabinets a little too loud always expected aggravated sighs after telling people no. People who have grown up people-pleasing always expect people to like them, saddened when they don’t, maybe too sad to realize it has nothing to do with them. People who grew up with fear of rejection due often feel like they won’t be good enough. It’s just  _ life _ , to have expectations of reactions whenever there is an  _ action _ . If a dog bites you once, bites you twice, why would you go near the dog again?

But it shouldn’t be that way. He knows this. People shouldn’t have to hurt, they shouldn’t have trauma--one word Hoseok hasn’t used yet. Maybe something he’s been avoiding? Changkyun knows that if he sees him as a baby, as a little, of course he won’t use that word. That’ll just trigger him. And how  _ belittling _ that feels. But then he thinks about the real world, and how considerate that is. To push a topic without using certain terminologies that could upset or trigger or squick him. That takes skill. And he can appreciate that skill without liking Hoseok, because he doesn’t. He has no real feelings towards the man other than irritation. He still uses him as a scapegoat, maybe. Changkyun has never lashed out at anyone before the way he lashes out at Hoseok, and it feels bad. It feels wrong and gross and icky and he feels like  _ he _ is the bad person here. It makes his stomach twist when he remembers all of the words said to him in the past and he wonders if he’s starting to fit into the role of them, the image of himself becoming stranger and stranger to him everyday.

Who is he now?

Does it really matter if those words are true or not? They’d been said to hurt him, he’d been hurt, and then he’d moved on. Was he supposed to care?

And yet he cares, so much, and pretends he doesn’t, and maybe he cares about the things he shouldn’t when he knows he doesn’t have to. And that had been his problem all along when it came to feelings. How twisted was that.

He’s uncomfortable now. He’s always focused on all the wrong things. Like his happiness, again. Focusing on what could make him happy instead of how to be happy. Looking, searching, for all the things that never mattered. And then here. He’s here. And it’s all his fault. Maybe if he had opened up just once . . . he wouldn’t be sitting here, being forced to. Being reminded of his failures each and every day, and the people he had let down, fucked over and fucked up, including himself. 

Was  _ he _ the toxic one? Was  _ he  _ the one that caused hurt to  _ others _ ? Was  _ he _ the one to blame? Surely, he couldn’t be. 

He already can’t handle his own hurt, can’t handle himself, can’t move on enough to love himself the way commercials think he needs to. How could he handle  _ that _ ?

“Changkyun, twenty minutes is up. I’m going to lay out the cards again for another chart. Do you think you can sit up a bit and talk to me?”

Changkyun lowers his head onto the table and covers it with his arms. It’s all his fault. If he hadn’t pushed this talk, he wouldn’t be going through this right now. He’s not overwhelmed anymore. He’s pissed. And why at Hoseok? Who had nothing to do with this? Why is he so mad at a man who hadn’t caused this?

Because he can’t take responsibility for his own actions and own feelings, can he? So, he needs to take responsibility for others feelings and reactions, and that’s selfish of him to do so. God, he’s so fucked up. It’s much easier to blame Hoseok for triggering him than to blame himself for hurting others. They chase each other in circles with fingers, it seems, like sticks that break and break, stripped of their bark. And he had never realized.

“Changkyun?”

He shakes his head.

“It’s okay.”

He feels a hand on his back and Changkyun’s breath shudders beneath the weight of his inability to speak. He needs to grow up and get over it and let go and move on. He needs to. All of this processing and healing won’t help him. It can’t help him, he thinks. It doesn’t always _work_ _like_ _that_.

“We’ll just sit here until we’re ready.”

Changkyun feels the fire inside his belly fume at that and he lifts his head, snatching the chart off of the table and grabbing one of the cards. He slaps it on haphazardly and shoves the ANGRY chart in Hoseok’s face.

“Now leave me alone.”

“What are you angry about, Changkyun?”

“You!” He feels his resolve start to crush a little under all of the weight, feels the dam starting to cave under the stress. “You! You make me mad! I hate you! And you keep pushing me to, to do this, this feelings stuff! When I said no! I don’t want to! And then I”--he has to stop himself from oversharing, for blaming Hoseok for forcing him to think about all the awful things he’s been thinking of all this time. “I hate you.”

Hoseok nods at that. “So, you’re irritated, frustrated and fed up and hurt. I hear that.”

“You clearly don’t. Whatever.” Changkyun goes to walk back into his room but Hoseok catches him from the waist. “Don’t grab me!”

“I’m not grabbing you, I’m holding you. You don’t go into another room without me, Changkyun.”

He takes a deep breath. 

“I want to, I just want to take a nap. I’m  _ tired _ .”

“I think lying down is a good idea. I think you’re very upset and need a break. A time out isn’t always a punishment. But before we go and lie down in bed, Hyung has a question.”

Changkyun tries to shove him away.

“I think doing a feelings talk is triggering for Changkyunnie. What do you think? I think I said something and then you started to overthink, or remembered something that makes you feel hurt and scared, or angry. I think Changkyunnie overthinks a lot but is too afraid to say it.”

“Stop,” he tries to fight Hoseok when he’s manhandled into his lap. 

“I’d like for you to sit right now.”

“My ass--my butt hurts, I don’t want to!”

He catches his own swearing just in time but Hoseok doesn’t say anything about it. He just gets him to sit on his thighs, butt hanging over the edge slightly so it doesn’t ache. Hoseok’s thighs are much softer and squishier than the floor, after all.

“I said  _ no _ !”

“And you’re overwhelmed and lashing out, so we’re going to take a moment before going off to bed.”

Changkyun lays back, attempting to throw himself off of his caregiver’s lap. He doesn’t care how childish it is or how childish he feels hanging upside down now. It’s just too bad Hoseok holds him so he doesn’t fall off.

“I think even bringing that up was upsetting for you, wasn’t it?”

He doesn’t have the energy to argue.

“And even me saying that was upsetting. Feelings in general are an upsetting topic for you, aren’t they?”

Changkyun kicks his legs. He doesn’t care how much this plays into the bratty little agenda, he doesn’t  _ want _ to sit on Hoseok’s lap or listen to him talk about his  _ feelings _ . Fuck feelings. Changkyun doesn’t need them and he is perfectly content with that. Even if that’s a big, fat lie.

“I think they are.”

He closes his eyes. If he needs to nap upside down right here, lying over Hoseok like a cat trying to stretch out, then so be it.

“We’re going to work on it, Changkyun. Step by step. I promise you it won’t hurt all the time.”

Changkyun  _ wishes _ he could believe that lie. But he doesn’t. He’s too tired to fight when Hoseok carries him into the nursery to put him down for a very early nap, and he doesn’t say a thing when he closes his eyes, peeking out from under the hood to watch Hoseok sit in the rocking chair, lying his head back and closing his eyes. He goes to move around, the thought of a horrible idea of any sudden freedom just on the tip of his brain, when Hoseok tells him to lay down and close his eyes without opening his own. Damn his caregiver senses. Changkyun lies down and closes his eyes but doesn’t sleep much, too afraid of the growing anxiety in his stomach. He’s never been one to tolerate the pain of lying awake with his own thoughts late at night. That’s what TV was for.

But there is no TV here, just Hoseok and the mobile turning and his rocking chair rocking and the stuffed fox in the corner of the bed next to his pillow. He supposes for now, that is good enough. He can make it work. 

  
  
  
  
  



	11. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoseok decides no more feelings talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw // gaslighting, manipulation, talk of forced wetting, talk of bathroom denial, talk of diapers and pull ups, mentions of trauma and triggers, nightmares, trauma bonding, rewards, dentist and doctor mention, brief talk of anxiety

Hoseok decides no more feelings talks beyond a five minute chart. 

Which is something of a surprise to him. But then again, he isn't surprised because pushing Changkyun, while definitely wearing him down, isn’t doing him any good. Hoseok isn’t cruel; he cares about Changkyun and he wants him to be able to live his life here. He wants him to be able to feel good and play happily and cry if he needs to and to not have to worry about his past. A lot of the littles that come through here don’t have happy pasts. And he wants Changkyun to be like them; carefree, safe, content. He doesn’t think that pushing him to talk about his trauma--a word he is actively avoiding because he knows its weight--is the smartest move, nor is it the kindest. He’s definitely gotten through to him, he can already see that. But he decides for the mean time, no more feelings talks. He doesn’t need Changkyun a mess every night.

He thinks that Changkyun has been having nightmares. Normally, he sleeps in his own room, right next to the nursery, void of most personal items. The dresser is for his clothes and sheets, his closet has his clothes and shoes, and the nightstand is where he keeps his laptop, phone, license and other paperwork locked up. If Changkyun even exits his room, he’s going to hear it on the baby monitor or see him from his room. And although he had been worried about him trying to get out in the middle of the night, he’s surprised it hasn’t happened sooner. But when he starts waking up in the middle of the night, shuffling of the blankets audible, he starts to wonder why he hasn’t run yet. 

Hoseok isn’t stupid. Most littles come through here because they want to and Changkyun isn’t most littles and therefore, he is aggressive and hostile. He is bound to be and that won’t change. And three weeks ago, he would certainly inwardly think that Changkyun was just trying to tire him out by waking him up as he tries to get out of his bed by himself. When he wakes up and sleepily drags himself into the nursery to find Changkyun with one leg over the railing, he tries not to sigh. He barely gets out a sentence before Changkyun is announcing that he needs to pee. And although he’s stopped fighting the pullup, he certainly isn’t using it. Which makes Hoseok finally start to consider the idea of underwear again. Changkyun pees three times that night and Hoseok adds an extra shot of espresso into his coffee the next morning.

He thinks to himself how Changkyun might just be trying to purposely tire him out, wear him down, so he can take advantage of him in some way but that thought is soon eradicated when he goes to wake Changkyun up a quarter after seven, and he’s still asleep. He’s sprawled out on his side, hair pushed back by his pillows, fist clenched around the tail of his stuffed fox. Hoseok smiles at that and debates on waking him. He was up all night, in between sleep cycles. Each time he had started to wake up Hoseok would sit up and wait a bit, head cushioned by the quilt laid over the back of the rocking chair. Changkyun didn’t have much of a chance to try and break out of his bed because Hoseok had gone over each time to rub his back and all three times he’d been told the same thing. 

Hoseok isn’t mean; he’d never deny Changkyun a trip to the potty, even if he was diaper training him. That’s cruel and unnecessary in his eyes, even if other caregivers might do it in order to get the stubborn or shy littles to go in their diapers. He knows Changkyun hides in the bathroom when he’s anxious, drinks more water than he should in order to do so, but he doesn’t deny him water either. He stops letting him drink juice for a couple days but he won’t dehydrate him. He doesn’t see it as much of a problem until Changkyun actually pees a good amount all three times that night, and sleeps an hour later than he’s used to in the morning. 

He sits him up and takes his temperature, soothing the little when he fusses by kicking his legs and holding him, not fond of the ear thermometer. He kisses the side of Changkyun’s head gently as he does so, a note in the back of his mind to trade it in for a temporal scanner when it comes up as normal. Changkyun isn’t sick. He doesn’t seem any different, so he chalks it up to just a bad night and maybe a few nightmares.

The next few days go by smoother than usual; Changkyun eats without a fight, although he does try to grab the utensils every time, and doesn’t bite him or scratch him at bath time, though he doesn’t play with the bath toys either. They have a mutual understanding of one another, he thinks, but he knows Changkyun is trying to avoid another spanking. He’s still snarky, a little rude, mostly sassy but he stops swearing and he stops screaming, for the most part. He writes this down as progress in his chart and immediately gets a block thrown at his knee. He sighs. Small steps, right?

And although this new progress is welcomed, Changkyun seems a little sadder, a little more unsure of himself than before. It’s definitely leftover feelings from his meltdown a few days back, and Hoseok feels a little guilty. But he doesn’t bring it up because he doesn’t want Changkyun to get upset all over again. When he’s ready, he’ll come to him and open up. But until then, they keep their daily routine and stick to their schedules.

The hard day comes when he realizes they’ve gotten through the first few weeks together with very little progress. While that’s not the best, it’s certainly a good thing that they’ve made any. Hoseok has noted extensively in Changkyun’s file that he’s a very difficult little but difficult doesn’t mean he isn’t worthy of love and a happy family. He makes a note that today is the day he needs to tell Changkyun about his doctor’s appointment. He might not care or he might fight him. That really does depend on Changkyun’s own feelings on the manner. However, he’s going to also give him the good news he’s had prepared for him. 

Changkyun wakes up by himself only a few minutes before Hoseok comes in to get him and he can tell because he’s left blinking sleepily at the ceiling as Hoseok rubs his tummy. He kicks at him and that's the start to their day. Hoseok shushes him and moves him onto his changing table and sits him up, handing him his stuffed fox to hold. 

Changkyun is wearing a set of yellow pajamas, adorned with little blue stars. His feet swing back and forth sleepily and he stares down at his stuffed fox, still processing being awake. Hoseok leaves him with a gentle kiss to the head before going to grab his day clothes. He needs something easily accessible, so he picks out a pair of soft green shorts and the green cat sweater he thinks Changkyun likes. It’s got a soft, corduroy pattern of a cat on it and Changkyun rubs his hand over it mindlessly when he colors. He thinks it’s soothing for him, so it’ll definitely come in handy.

“Changkyunnie,” he calls softly, wearing the goofiest smile he can, “are you still waking up?”

Changkyun blinks. Hoseok wishes he could wait until after breakfast, but he doesn’t want to leave Changkyun in his pullup from last night. Checking him every morning to see if he’s used it almost gets him bit but he does again this morning and Changkyun only kicks him gently.

“Hey,” he warns, still gentle, “we don’t kick. It’s time to get you dressed. Hyung has some news for you before and after and he needs you to listen. Okay? Can you do that, Changkyunnie?”

Changkyun lets out an aggravated noise when he goes to unbutton his sleep top, shouldering him off, and he ignores it. He’s just cranky, he’ll live. He takes the shirt off and slides down his shorts, placing a hand on Chankgyun’s knee.

“Be good for me, there you go.”

Changkyun doesn’t say anything, pulling his stuffed fox into his lap quietly. He’s confused, he can tell that much, by the slight furrow of his eyebrows and how his eyes dart back and forth between Hoseok and the closet. But he remains silent, sitting there in his pullup, hair messy from sleep. 

“Are we ready to listen?”

Changkyun slides a hand over his other arm and Hoseok tells himself to hurry this up. He’s probably cold. 

“Hyung has your sweater and shorts for you to wear today, look at that,” he gasps softly, showing the cat sweater to Changkyun who is, as expected, less than amused. He just stares at it. But then Hoseok folds the clothes and puts them on the table next to Changkyun. He immediately goes to grab them.

“No, no, no,” he chides in a sing song voice, “not yet. We need to get you out of your pullup.”

Changkyun doesn’t like being changed and he knows that. It’s one of the hardest things to get him to cooperate for, even though it takes ten seconds to pull the pullup off and put the new one on. Hoseok doesn’t even want to imagine how much of a menace Changkyun would be if he was in diapers.

“Hyung is gonna take your pullup off and then we’re gonna see if Changkyun can wear underwear today like a big boy. How does that sound?”

Changkyun blinks for a moment before he fully processes the sentence and his eyes widen for a moment before going back to their usual, dull expression. He’s pretending not to care. 

“Do you want to try that?” Hoseok asks, grabbing the microfiber underwear.

Changkyun gives a nod and Hoseok smiles again, pressing an exaggerated kiss to his head.

“Good boy!” He pulls the pullup down off of Changkyun’s hips and down his legs, and tosses it into the bin next to the changing table. “Right foot in, good boy,” he makes sure to praise Changkyun as he pulls the underwear up. He can tell he’s embarrassed and uncomfortable, but he hasn’t punched Hoseok in the face yet, so it’s a win.

“Undies on, and sweater next.” Hoseok goes to unfold the sweater. “Now, Changkyun. Just because you’re wearing underwear today doesn’t mean you’ll be wearing it for the rest of your time here. Do you understand that?”

Changkyun looks up at him. “Why not?”

“If you need the pullup again, you’re going to be wearing it and I don’t want a fight from you about it.”

He works the sweater onto Changkyun’s head, smoothing back the dark hair to help him get his arms in.

“But I--I mean,” Changkyun stutters as the sweater is pulled down and righted, “I don’t use it. You said I don’t have to.”

“Just because you don’t use it doesn’t mean it can’t be used in the future just in case. Better safe than sorry.”

“But I don’t  _ need _ it,”

“Think of it as just another safety measure,” Hoseok goes to put Changkyun’s shorts on now, tugging them up his hips, “even if you don’t use it, it’s good to have. If you get sick or we have to leave and go somewhere, you might be in a pullup, just in case.”

“If we . . . go somewhere?”

“That’s right, Changkyunnie. In the next couple weeks, you have a doctor’s appointment and a dentist appointment, and we might be there for a while.”

Changkyun looks at him for a moment, lips parted in disbelief, and he soon closes his mouth. “No.”

“No . . . ?”

“I don’t, I’m not, I’m not sick,” he manages to get out, confused, tripping over his words. He speaks slowly and carefully. 

“Doctors aren’t just for when we’re sick, sweetie. It’s just a checkup to make sure you’re still my healthy little boy.” Hoseok says, going to help him off of the changing table. It’s not too high off of the ground but Changkyun has rolled off of it plenty of times, earning bruised legs and ankles.

“I don’t . . .” Changkyun shakes his head.

“Is Changkyunnie afraid of doctors or dentists? Maybe both?”

He scoffs. “I’m not afraid of  _ anything _ . I just don’t want to be poked and prodded like a guinea pig.”

“You’re not going to be poked and prodded and you’re certainly not a guinea pig, little kitty cat,” he grabs a baby wipe to wipe his hands down with.

“I don’t even have cavities.”

“We’ll see about that. And if so, the dentist will clean your teeth and then we can come home and watch a movie”--

“And I’m  _ not _ wearing a  _ pullup _ .”

“Changkyun, if Hyung says you need it, then you need it.”

“I don’t need it.”

“That’s for  _ me _ to determine, not you, silly boy. Now come on, let’s finish getting ready and go make breakfast and then Hyung has a  _ very special _ coloring page for you today,” Hoseok goes to lift Changkyun to carry him and he folds his arms tight against his body. He doesn't want to be picked up and he’s communicating that physically. “I think someone’s feeling a little embarrassed. Do we need a few minutes?”

Changkyun is visibly biting the inside of his cheek and Hoseok holds up his stuffed fox, pressing its nose against Changkyun’s cheek. “How about you hold Foxy and take a few deep breaths while Hyung goes and gets you socks. Do you want your purple socks?”

Changkyun glares at him with no words, and Hoseok goes to grab his purple socks out of the dresser drawer. He gives them both a few minutes of quiet time as he fixes up the dresser, grabbing the hairbrush and folding a few pairs of socks he had just left in the drawer. Sue him, he’s got his hands full. He checks the drawer of pullups and diapers hastily, making sure he doesn’t need to refill it, and then finally turns back to Changkyun, who’s got Fox’s throat strangled in his grip. Whatever he needs to do to cope.

“It’s time for socks and hair brushing and then we eat breakfast. We’ll wash your face and brush your teeth after. Is that a good compromise?” he asks, fully expecting an argument. When Changkyun ignores him, he goes to pull the socks onto his feet. He doesn’t fight him, so that’s good at least. He brushes his hair out next, as gingerly as he can, careful not to be too rough or too fast. Changkyun has thick, black hair, parted in the middle, and he’s afraid to comb his bangs straight down in case he irritates his ears or his face. “All done. Are you ready to go into the kitchen now?”

Changkyun closes his eyes, most likely to roll them in exasperation, and Hoseok just smiles. “Good boy.”

  
  
  
  
  



	12. Tenderly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyungwon has two littles, and loves them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for jealousy, feelings of jealousy, separation anxiety and biting, and talk of slight changes to appearance
> 
> NO forced infantilism here! Minhyuk and Jooheon are both consenting littles

Hyungwon doesn’t get headaches.

For whatever reason that he’s been blessed with, he doesn’t have allergies or headaches, and he thinks that that makes him a perfect candidate to be a wonderful caregiver. His allergies have never truly bothered him either, his sinuses being a bit rough sometimes, but the humidifier and air purifiers have spaced that out. They don’t go outside much in the winter because nothing is worse than a sick little. Not because they’re fussy or too difficult to care for but because he has a heart and it tears in two everytime he has to lull a fussy, sick little to sleep. He lets his littles do things they probably shouldn’t; play in dirt and eat leaves and put their fingers in their mouth. It’s good for their immune system. But playing outside in the cold and the snow is too much and he doesn’t care much for it. Especially not when his two current littles are already so rambunctious and constantly needing attention. 

Like right now, when he’s at the counter to warm up Jooheon’s bottle and Minhyuk comes to pull at his sweater. 

“Minnie. What did I say about coming into the kitchen?”

“Not to, but ‘s important!” Minhyuk is a sweetheart, when he’s not biting and crying and yelling relentlessly. He’s been with Hyungwon for a few months now and though he has his moments of full fledged rage, he is a sweet little, true to heart. 

“What is so important that you need to break the rules, huh?” Hyungwon asks, eyebrow lifted and Minhyuk gives a nervous smile, a trying one, the one he has when he’s measuring just how much he can get away with. Over a smile to overcompensate for what he’s about to do. 

“Baby keeps takin’ my juice and chewin’ the blocks!” Minhyuk points hastily to the living room where Jooheon should be playing with him nicely. The two can only manage that for so long without needing interference. 

Hyungwon grabs the bottle from the sink and shakes it a couple times. It’s warm enough. He hurries over to the living room’s bright, colorful playmat, adorned with cats and dogs and trains and little railroad tracks all over where Jooheon is indeed chewing on a block. He immediately stops when he notices Hyungwon stride over, bending down to take it from him. 

“No, no. I know you’re hungry,” he says softly, shaking the bottle gently. “C’mon, open up for me. Good boy.” 

Jooheon takes his bottle from him with ease, slipping it into his mouth to drink. It’s a fight to get him to sit up during bottle feeding but he rests against the couch as he does now and Hyungwon is grateful. Minhyuk grabs his sippycup from the rug. 

“Now stop stealin’!” He loudly exclaims at Jooheon, who ignores him. 

“Minnie,” Hyungwon scolds, “do not speak like that to the baby.”

“I’m just sayinggg,” he mumbles against the lid of his sippycup, immediately going to drink the cranberry juice inside, not seeming to care that Jooheon had used (and probably chewed) on it. It was endearing, really, how Minhyuk always tried to point out the difference between them--him, a ‘big boy’ and Jooheon, a ‘baby’, so sternly. And yet, he always wanted to be so close to him, use the same things as him, always wanted what he had. Minhyuk was a tricky little. 

“It’s mean. Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not bein’ mean! Just honest!” 

“Well then Hyung will give you an honest time out then, won’t he?” Hyungwon adjusts Jooheon, who is starting to list to the side against the couch. He goes to sit back down on the couch behind him, maneuvering him between his legs. 

“I didn’t do nothing!” 

“Lower your voice, Minnie.”

Minhyuk makes a face and bites his sippycup angrily. However Hyungwon has ended up with two avid biters, he’ll never know. 

“You’re tired, huh?” Hyungwon calls to Minhyuk. And it’s true—he's crabby and probably needs a nap just like Jooheon, who is resting so gently against his legs. Hyungwon can tell when he needs a nap, measuring Minhyuk’s moods on his internal brattiness scale. Jooheon is going down for his nap on the rug soon and Minhyuk should definitely follow suit. It’s hard to get him to nap the same time as Jooheon, because of their headspace. Minhyuk wants to be a big boy, wants cups instead of bottles and pull-ups instead of diapers, which is fine. But he also wants to stay awake when Jooheon is napping because he’s ‘not a baby’, which is something Hyungwon desperately tries to prove to him isn’t a bad thing. Hyungwon will even lie down in between them and nap with them, too. He loves it, not just because he gets to nap, but because he gets to hold their hands or brush their hair back and kiss their heads. His littles are so, so precious. 

“Not tired and don’t need a nap,”

“Oh, I think you are. I think in a little bit we’ll all lie down and close our eyes.” 

“No.”

“Yes, sweetie.” Hyungwon smiles gently as Minhyuk flops over into his side. Perfect. He’s getting there all on his own. It’s funny how easy and difficult he is to care for at the same time.

“Mm’b,” Jooheon mumbles behind his bottle, lying his head down against Hyungwon’s knee. He pets his head gently, combing through the freshly dyed locks. Some littles can’t afford to change their appearance before their admission date, or don’t have time, and that’s okay. Jooheon had had bright orange hair, roots avidly showing, hair stringy from over bleaching when he’d arrived into Hyungwon’s care, and they’d dyed it black after cutting it a week later. It had been messy and he’d cried until Hyungwon had given him a pacifier to suck on. It came out nicely and was looking much healthier since they had taken extra steps to properly care for it. It’s grown out now, and looks so thick and healthy and Hyungwon loves running his fingers through it when they lie down together, singing a lullaby or feeding Jooheon a bottle. He’s such a mushy, saccharine, little thing and Hyungwon truly adores him. He hadn’t been asked to dye Jooheon’s hair but he had and the little had agreed to it. Some caregivers give special instructions on things to help fix or change a little, or things not to change at all, like hair style and hair color or piercings. It rarely happened, but he’s had a caregiver or two want their little’s hair grown out or dyed to a more acceptable color.

Jooheon blinks up sleepily at him, cheek pressed against Hyungwon’s knee, bottle tipped up. He sucks gently and Hyungwon goes to brush his bangs off of his forehead and kiss his temple. His eyes shine so brightly under the afternoon light, and they sparkle, like waters rippling under a hot summer sun and he longs to kiss his lashes. Pretty baby.

“Are we sleepy yet?”

Jooheon gives a breathy little giggle through his nose, gurgling behind his bottle, and Hyungwon smiles back at him, pressing another feathery kiss to his nose now. Jooheon, even when silent, was such a deep soul. Colorful, adventurous, and bold. Though tender.

“Just a few more minutes and then we’ll go to sleep on the rug together for a nap. And then when we wake up, it’ll be time for a feelings check and almost time to help with dinner.”

‘Help with dinner’ was a nice way of saying he would get both littles situated in the kitchen to eat. It took a while, since there were two of them, two avid biters, two fussy littles and they both had dinner at the same time usually. Jooheon, in his high chair, and Minhyuk at the table. Hyungwon juggled mealtimes with them. He was grateful that Minhyuk always  _ demanded _ to feed himself, albeit messy and not always with accurate precision. He’d end up with food in his hair, on his face and nose, on his forehead. Hyungwon would keep an eye on him while he fed Jooheon in his high chair, situated away from the table in case Minhyuk was feeling particularly unruly. He’s thrown food a few times, and Jooheon has retaliated by throwing his own. Littles fighting or being jealous over one another was not rare whenever another little was added to the equation, but it never ended in many tears.

Minhyuk had been there longer than Jooheon, and while he had been excited to get a little brother, he had also been  _ enraged _ at the split of one on one attention. Minhyuk, ever so loving, ever so caring, ever so dramatic, had cried about it, had bit about it, had thrown food about it, but after a couple days, he’d been the one to want to feed Jooheon, hold his bottle, give him his toys. Though the jealousy came in waves, it didn't peak often, and Minhyuk didn’t lash out at Jooheon. Despite the petty and immature behavior at times, Hyungwon could tell he genuinely loved him. He still was worried if they wouldn’t be adopted together, and how to properly handle that, since they were much closer than any other pair of littles he’d had before. Minhyuk didn’t want to be separated from Jooheon, even if they were both going to visit and keep in touch through their caregivers. Hyungwon has approved a couple of potential couples of caregivers to visit and interview with but he’s hoping they can either handle both of them or Minhyuk can overcome his separation anxiety.

Jooheon moves his mouth from the bottle and to Hyungwon’s knee, and he quickly adjusts the bottle in his hands, sticking the nipple back into his mouth. “There you go. Hyung’s pants aren’t very tasty are they?”

Minhyuk shoves the blocks out of the way with his feet and Hyungwon frowns. He always has the two of them clean up their own messes, but Minhyuk looks tired, and he’s not so sure he wants to risk him cleaning up and then becoming too energized to actually sleep. He scritches the top of Jooheon’s head before sliding down onto the floor to gather the blocks to go back into their bin. Jooheon makes a noise and Hyungwon pats his knee to let him know that he’s still there. 

“Don’t wanna get up,” Minhyuk mumbles and Hyungwon can’t help but think ‘told you so’. He’s tired, and he needs a nap. They all do. 

“Because you’re sleepy, Minnie.”

“Mmmhh,” Minhyuk moans and drums his feet against the rug. 

“You’re sleepy and you and your brother need to go down for a nap, don’t you?” Hyungwon asks, lying down on his side to rub Minhyuk’s tummy. He doesn’t bat his hand away or roll over, just lies there. 

“It’s not a nap, it’s a sleep,” Minhyuk defends himself and Hyungwon snickers.

“Okay, sweetheart. It’s a sleep. Are we ready to have a sleep?” Hyungwon asks, rubbing circles into Minhyuk’s stomach now, the soft feeling of his sweater luscious against Hyungwon’s fingertips.

“The baby sleeps too!”

“Yes, Jooheonie will be sleeping too,” he reassures his little. He stretches his arms out for Jooheon, who scoots over to lie beside him, banging his head into Hyungwon’s back. “Not there, silly. Come on, right to Hyung. Come to Hyung. Good boy.”

Jooheon allows Hyungwon to pull him up and closer, adjusting him against his chest and taking his bottle to place onto the rug, far away from his own head. 

“Close your eyes, sweet boy,” Hyungwon whispers to Jooheon, who stares up at him like he’s special, as if he means something, as if he places the stars into the sky. Jooheon grabs onto him and presses a hand into his cheek. “What are you doing, silly?”

Jooheon smiles, and goes to suck his thumb, but Minhyuk grabs his pacifier, clipped onto his collar, and shoves it into his mouth. Hyungwon grabs his hand and gives him a stern look.

“ _ Gentle _ , Minhyuk. You need to be gentle with the baby.”

“I was!”

“Lower your voice,” he whispers, “and be gentle.”

Jooheon sucks on his pacifier, eyes closing as Minhyuk lets out an aggravated noise. Hyungwon lifts an eyebrow at him and Minhyuk knows that warning quite well, and stops making noise. He turns onto his side and reaches out to touch Jooheon’s hair, even more gingerly than Hyungwon does, petting him as if he’s a newborn kitten that he doesn’t know how to care for.

“Sleepy baby,”

“You’re both my sleepy babies,” Hyungwon says, “now, close your eyes, Minnie. It’s time to sleep.”

Minhyuk doesn’t close his eyes at first, choosing to of course actively defy his caregiver, but soon closes his eyes after a few long seconds, opening them and closing them again. He’s drifting off, but not as quickly as Jooheon is. He can tell. Hyungwon starts to hum softly, a slow song, holding both of his littles close, hands trailing up and down, rubbing circles into their backs. Soon he closes his eyes, humming lowly to himself, before he falls asleep, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder their love is platonic, please do not ship them

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: autumnacorns
> 
> CC: autumnacorns
> 
> This was going to be a one shot but maybe I’ll make it a few chapters long let me know what y’all want


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